Camp Blood
by Sketch Sanchez
Summary: On Friday June 13th 1980 Pamela Voorhees kills 8 in a killing spree before getting beheaded herself. 5 years later and almost to the day another spree occurs that takes 19 and lasts an entire weekend with no perpetrator ever caught. Although some say they still hunt the woods to this day in 2018 a YouTube documentary crew travel to Crystal Lake to see if that holds up.


_The following is a transcript of an interview conducted by Lieutenant Robert Perkins of the Crystal Lake Police Department on the morning of Friday, June 13_ _th_ _1980\. The subject is Pamela Voorhees._

 _[Unintelligible]_

 _Lieutenant Perkins: Have a seat over there Pamela, I'm sorry to bring you in like this. Were you shopping?_

 _Pamela Voorhees: I was gathering stores for the camp, those little kids I tell you._

 _LP: They eat a lot don't they?_

 _[Laughter.]_

 _PV: Oh dear, you have no idea. They eat and eat and-well don't tell Steve-but I let them sneak in a little treat here and there; they're such little angels!_

 _LP: I'm sure. [Unintelligible] we brought you here because there's been an incident at the camp…_

 _PV: Oh? What's happened?_

 _[Silence.]_

 _LP: Well Pam… [There's] no easy way to tell you this. [Unintelligible] I'm just going to come right out and say it…your boy, Jason, he's missing._

 _PV: [unintelligible] what do you mean, missing? I left him with those lovely kids, they're very diligent._

 _LP: He was last seen during a swimming activity..._

 _PV: He was swimming? He's not-_

 _LP: We believe he may have drowned._

 _[Silence]_

 _LP: Pamela?_

 _LP: Hello?_

 _[Unintelligible.]_

 _LP: Do you need a moment?_

 _Recording ends._

 **Camp Blood**

 _ **1.**_

"Tonight on "Unresolved Mysteries" we take a look at the Legend of Camp Blood and its effects on the town and people of Crystal Lake. I'm Kelsey Sampson and maybe you can help solve a mystery." There was a large groan from the crew and I let the mic fall from my face in exasperation.

"We can't use that, Kelse." My producer Jeremy stepped out from behind the camera with that smug look that usually drove me crazy.

"It's not my fault you guys never replaced the place holder." I shrugged. We were filming outside a roadside diner, just a few miles out from the town proper. It was past midnight and the place was deserted; Jeremy got the bright idea that we should film the intro here, _great atmosphere_ is how he put it.

"So...do you want me to start over?" I asked.

"Nah just keep going with the rest, we can always redub the last part when we've come up with...something." I cocked an eyebrow and stifled a laugh. We were quite the operation. I waited a moment before I began again. In my mind I could see it already all cut together.

I'd begin with my monologue: "It was Friday June 13th, 1980 when we all became familiar with the words 'Camp Blood'. Pamela Voorhees was a young single mother, using her job as camp cook to help make ends meet for her and her son Jason. The camp itself had been only open for 3 weeks when tragedy struck." From there I figure we'd cut to a talking head, possibly the current sheriff in town.

" _Jason was allowed to be take part in daily activities alongside other campers as sort of-you know-babysitting?"_ He'd say. My voice over would intercut at various points, offering deeper insight, or just some color. "Then Deputy Sherriff Robert Perkins was the first to arrive on the scene." I'd say. "He knew Pamela well."

" _She was a fine lady, everyone loved her." He said with a cough. "Anyway, Jason was about…15 or so? She sheltered him something fierce; to this day I don't understand why she never told anyone he couldn't swim?"_

"During that days swimming activities, Jason disappeared. Witnesses at the time last saw him in the water with other children but lost track of him." I added. "It was quickly assumed that he had drowned. The police were called in, and Pamela was told." If we had any money, I would suggest we put in a dramatic reenactment or some such, but we don't, so I can't. We'll do the arty thing and zoom in on still pictures; this case has a lot of good ones. There' that one photo of Mrs. Voorhees, it was haunting in its normalcy. We could zoom in on that while we had the sheriff wax poetic about her character. _"I'll never forget the look on her face. She had become completely blank for just a moment but the sudden rage that welled up in her really shook me to my core, you know?_ Her eyes are wide and her smile even wider; an innocent enough looking picture made ominous thanks to a haunting music score. _"_

Next I would ask the viewer to put themselves in a killers shoes, "Pamela Voorhees has just been told that her only child has just drowned because no one was paying any attention." A pregnant pause, to really sell it. "How would you feel? How would you react? Would you resort to...murder?" Newspaper covers would flash across the screen.

8 DEAD AT CAMP MASSACRE

GRIEVING MOTHER SLAUGHTERS 8

CAMP KILLER WAS BEHEADED.

"Driven by grief fueled rage Pamela Voorhees, shortly following being told that her son had drowned, went back to camp and proceeded to stab, bludgeon, and hack the 8 camp counselors present on that night; all while the children slept." I continued. "She was closing in on her 9th victim when she was suddenly beheaded by her target, head counselor Alice Hardy. 8 people dead, one as young as 17, all killed by a mother grieving over the supposed death of her only child?"

A man shrouded in darkness, to protect their identity, will be shown. His voice distorted he says, "I found him the next morning. I don't care what they say."

That will be when I hit them with the bomb, "Yes I said 'supposed', because in an Unresolved Mysteries exclusive a man with connections to the Crystal Lake Police reached out to me and had quite the story to tell." Just saying it out loud was enough to get me to smile.

" _He was alive." He would tell us. "He had washed up ashore on the other side of the lake. He was motionless but alive."_

" _So he didn't drown?" I asked._

" _Shit no! I brought him to the hospital myself."_

" _But the official story is that Pamela Voorhees committed her spree because her son Jason died in the lake...if what you say is true, they're lying."_

" _They are."_

" _But why?"_

" _Because they lost him. I wasn't watching him or nothin, I wasn't assigned that, you understand?"_ The shadow moves back in their chair. _"I remember ringing him to the station where he was told what had happened, and then I went about my other duties. I never heard mention of him again."_

" _Surely you said something when you heard the final report?"_

" _Shit yeah I did. I spoke to my captain about it and he told me to me to drop it fast, in so many words…"_

" _Why do you think they lied?"_

He pauses for a moment. _"Embarrassment. Plain and simple shame."_

"If this were the end of our tale, that'd be one thing but unfortunately, our tale gets darker and bloodier. 5 years will pass before death comes to Crystal Lake once again." Another newspaper headline, but only one was enough this time.

SURVIVOR FOUND MURDERED

"Alice hardy had become somewhat of a recluse in the years following the massacre at Camp Blood, and who could blame her? So it was no surprise it took over a week for her headless body to be found, after her co-workers began to worry after her 3rd straight absence. To add a sinister twist to this horror; it was Friday August 13th; 1985.

And it was the start of a 3 day murder spree that shocked the nation and the world. 19 bodies, an inept manhunt, and a pair of survivors claiming it was Jason Voorhees who attacked them. Tommy and Trish Jarvis, then both 12 and 17 years old respectively, were two of three survivors of a rampage that spanned the entire weekend. The story immediately relayed once the dust had settled was that 12 year old Jarvis had attacked and killed the assailant before they could murder his sister. Mr Jarvis however in the time since has claimed that he only mortally wounded the killer, the police never found any body. And yes, as far as we know he still insists that it was Jason Voorhees who had attacked them."

Sheriff Perkins would once again appear, a dead pan scowl clear across his gaunt face. _"The fact that we never found the body of the perpetrator, or perpetrators, is no secret. It's in the reports."_ He shook his head slightly. _"We object to the notion that-"_

" _-it was Jason Voorhees?" I'm heard interrupting._

" _-they're still alive."_ He let a pregnant pause hang in the air before again shaking his head. _"Let's be perfectly clear here, it wasn't Jason Voorhees because that boy drowned in 1980. Perpetuating this notion that he *may* be out there-some back woods psycho-is harmful to the people of my town. 30 years we've had to live with this specter, when is enough enough?"_ Perkins took a small sip of water before continuing. _"Now, it is the position of my department that the assailant in 1985 is dead. There was a lot of blood at the scene that clearly came from this person. Unfortunately we've no real suspects but, I suppose that's what shows like yours are for eh?"_

I make sure to talk about things we will be having come up throughout the show. "Local historian and professor of myths & folklore Megan Garris offers her own take in our exclusive interview that can be watched in its entirety on our website." A photo of a blonde middle aged woman will appear on screen, her voice was recorded over the telephone. We'll have that playing over it. _"Well it's not clear exactly how Mr. Jarvis *knows* it was Jason-I mean I'm sure he didn't formally introduce himself."_ I imagined she must have cracked a smile when he had said that, I know I would have. _"But Jason Voorhees has long been a part of popular folklore since Mrs. Voorhees went on her murder spree. It's entirely possible-likely even-whoever committed the crimes may have been trying to pass themselves off as Jason. A scare tactic, perhaps?"_

I went on, using this to make a sort of thesis statement. "Whether it was Jason Voorhees or not, one thing is clear: Whoever killed those 22 people could still be out there. Tonight we will speak with the world's foremost Criminologist; longtime residents of the area; retired and current police and much more. Also tonight, for the first time ever, we speak with the oft forgotten "third survivor": Ginny Field. And what of the reclusive Tommy Jarvis? His last public statement came in 1995, on the syndicated show 'In Search Of…'"

" _Jason is still out there. It's this inescapable dread I feel every day; call it trauma, PTSD, whatever you want but I know he's still out there."_

"Tonight we attempt to make contact with Tommy Jarvis through his last living relative: his daughter; Tracy. She still lives in the area and has agreed to speak with us, that interview will be coming next; please stay with us."

I lowered the microphone with a smirk, "Good?" Jeremy responded with a thumbs up as he polished off a sub. "Alright people lets pack it up and hit the sack, we've got a big day tomorrow." He bellowed out, our crew was only three including myself. Levi was our camera guy, film school guy who wishes he was on movie sets. Nice enough guy if not a little pretentious, he means well. Adam was our sound guy, super laid back. I love the dude honestly and always request him for our stories.

"How far are we from Crystal Lake?" Levi asked no one in particular.

"10 miles or so." I responded.

"Maybe we should just make the drive?"

"Jeremy already booked the rooms."

"Oh. Man I'm all hyped up after hearing all that!"

"Serious?"

"Yes. Camp Blood is my rabbit-hole case."

"Excuse me, your what?"

"Ah people like me into true crime always have their one pet case. The one they can get lost in reading about, seeing different theory's, leads, all that."

"Hence 'Rabbit-hole'."

"Yes. Y'know the police say they have no suspects but plenty of web sleuths have put names forth."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"Right, of course."

 _He means well. He means well. He means well._ Became my mantra for the next second. Jeremy shouts that everything is loaded up and we drive the 5 minutes to the roadside in. I steal a look out into the surrounding woods before heading into my room for the night. Tommy's words echo in my mind.

 _Jason is still out there._

 _ **2.**_

Early October in New Jersey back in the 1980s were typically described in a word: cold. These days? Mildly inconvenient at worst. In times when summer keeps sneaking it's warmth further and further into the later parts of the year, an early fall camp seemed like a good idea to Jaime Arnold. With mornings that require a light jacket at best and evenings you're good to go with just a layer and a sleeping bag then why not? Jaime was a stocky woman who looked like she could carry ten bundles of firewood if she wanted; she kept her hair in a short buzz cut because she hated dealing with hair on principal. Sat next to her was Carly who was about her same height but with a completely different kind of frame; she had long curly hair that she liked to twist around her finger in quiet moments like this one.

She and Jaime were recently married and enjoyed camping together more than most. Carly used to joke that they'd probably die camping, not realizing she should have been moonlighting as a prophet. Tonight they sat by the fire, drinking beers and listening to music. Both content and full from the many brats seared over the open flame. The best part about this area was how truly alone you felt. Crystal Lake was so remote almost no one ever came here. The population was so low that you didn't really have to worry about locals either. In a way, it was the perfect camping spot for those times when you just wanted to get away. Carly loved to sing, and Jaime loved to listen; she would belt out each song as they emerged from the phone just nearby practically pitch perfect.

It was unfortunately, then, when a beer too many forces Jaime to go off into nature for some relief. She grabbed a flashlight to guide her way as the forest grew pitch black the further removed from the fire you got. There had been no moon that night, without it the trees looked more entrapping than inviting. Flies and mosquitos chased after her light beam as he walked sloppily behind their campsite. There was a large rock there that they had both decided was the perfect make-shift bathroom. Jaime sighed and pulled down her pants, squatting awkwardly.

 _*Thump* *Thump*_

 _Heavy_ footfalls to her left forced her hair to stand on end. It was her only warning. She was pinned to the ground the next instant; inside her it felt cold and heavy. A long metal pole had penetrated her, entering in her back and out of her chest. Blood spattered out slowly, hitting the ground in thick globules. Something pulled the metal rod from her; suddenly her chest cavity was now just a waterfall of blood.

Her shrill shriek ended just as soon as it began with a thud but it was enough to jolt Carly from her camping chair. "J-Jaime?!"

She too heard the heavy foot falls.

They were the last thing she heard just before her head discharged itself from her body. It landed at its feet with wet thud, sinking slightly in the soft dirt. A mass of flesh and bone stomped the area day and night, barely stopping, barely resting. This has been its land for decades; while most were smart to stay clear, they told no tales and shared no warnings. Perhaps things of this nature could be avoided, but to most of the people in this town, it wasn't any of their concern. This mass grabbed the fallen head and detached body and drug it further into the forest before dumping it over by the prone and unmoving body of her wife whose screams had long ceased to be. Harsh conditions and decades passing have weathered and grayed its skin. Its clothes were frayed and haggard, barely intact. Sunken eyes gaze across the expanse of green, brown and orange, a tidal wave of nature blackened by the moonless night loomed as far as its eyes can see.

Mother beckons…

"Megan Garris?" A middle aged woman stood before me, her screen door half way open as she squinted trying to make out my face. Her white hair betrayed beautiful blonde locks of her past youth. "It's Kelsey Sampson, we spoke on the phone?"

"Oh yes from YouTube?"

"Well-"I flushed red. "We post our show there we don't…actually work for YouTube."

"Right." She looked us all over, she seemed tired but who am I to judge. It was 8am, I probably looked as terrible as I felt. "Well come on in."

Her house was modest, I honestly expected bigger due to the amount of open land around but that could be chalked up to big city bias I'm sure. When we entered the house on our left was her living room and to our right a set of stairs leading to the second floor. "Have a seat, Coffee?"

"I'd love some coffee." Levi replied as she disappeared behind a door, I assume to the kitchen.

"Set the camera up here." Jeremy motioned Levi to a spot just to the side of the coffee table. "I think she should sit here." He nodded toward the love seat. "Kelce?"

"That should be fine." I began digging into my purse for my notes and a pen. I sat down at the couch adjacent to the love seat and began going through my notes not even sure where I'd begin.

"I've only got two kinds of creamer, I hope that's okay." She returned carrying a fairly large serving tray.

"That's perfectly fine. " I said with my best smile. Levi quickly helped himself while the rest of us assumed their task. Adam approached Megan with a smile.

"I'm going to need to mic you up." He said simultaneously holding up a lapel mic.

"Oh right, of course. So you're just a YouTube show?"

"Well we work for a small media company that produces news content, podcasts, etc. we're one of their many shows." Jeremy offered.

"Have you heard of Buzz feed?" I asked.

"Oh, you work for Buzz feed?"

"Well, no. But we're kind of like that."

"I see."

Adam gave Jeremy a thumbs up indicating he was all set. I glanced at Levi who was sipping his coffee but the camera was set up so I assumed he was done too.

"Well I've never done anything like this before, aside from the little skype call we did. Will that be on the show?"

"Yes." Jeremy said.

"Don't worry, we're just having a conversation, doesn't have to be any harder than that." Again I smiled, Jeremy said once it was my best asset, it eased most people and I used it often because, well, he was right.

"Alrighty, so where do you want to start?"

Good question. "Well let's start with some background, it'll allow us to check the equipment, the sound levels and all that. Tell us about yourself."

"Well I grew up here in Crystal Lake so this case has been basically a part of my entire life. Probably didn't help that my dad used to be the Sherriff."

"Your father was the Sherriff?"

"Yup from I want to say…86-92? Something like that."

"So is it safe to assume he was on the force in 80 and 85?"

"He was but he passed about 4 years ago."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. He might have notes saved from that time period with his remaining personal effects, I can go look through them if you'd like."

"Sure whenever you can find the time, we'd appreciate it."

"No problem. Let's see, what else?" She looked down for a second in mid thought. "Oh! I used to go to high school with Tommy Jarvis, did you know that?"

"Oh no, we didn't." I tried hard not to laugh, god why would we?

"Yeah." She looked wistful for a moment. "I had a terrible crush on the boy, since the first day I met him. My father had brought him into the station for some reason or another-I hung out there a lot back then-I don't think he coped with life very well."

Levi snorted and I shot him a look.

She grinned. "A bit of an understatement on my part—this…you won't include that will you?" Her face got quickly serious.

"No, don't worry."

She nodded. "He had these eyes, haunted eyes-I'm no good with words-I could just get lost in them."

"I understand all too well."

She laughed. "After high school I majored in Folklore and moved back here after College to take care of my dad and, well, here I am!"

"So we're basically going to ask this of everyone but, do you think Jason Voorhees drowned in 1980?"

"My father always told me he did. Among us kids, we never thought he did. That was what everyone in town basically whispered about, of course. I believed my dad I guess."

"'Believed'?"

"Well I hung out with tommy a-lot, so…" She sighed. "I don't know what I believe if I'm honest."

"You said on our Skype call that we don't really know how Tommy knows it was Jason, has he ever said anything to you?"

She shook her head. "We didn't talk about it. I suppose that's why we didn't work out, too young to let someone else in. It hard to put yourself in those shoes too-he was ten, God!"

"How would you say the folklore has evolved since you were a kid?"

"Oh." She laughed softly. "It was ever changing practically. Every year something new was added; that's when I started tuning out. My degree helped me appreciate it, academically."

"What sorts of things were added to the legend?

"One was Jason _did_ drown but somehow rose from the dead when his mother was beheaded."

"And waited five years?"

"Most of these fall apart under scrutiny dear." I was sure I turned a shade of red and that she noticed because she smiled apologetically before continuing. "One I remember from my high school days incorporated a real life tragedy into the legend."

I scoffed, "you're kidding?"

She laughed, "Don't act so surprised. It's _what we do_ , as a species!"

"That's true."

"What happened was, there was this senior trip set up for the lake side area. It was this whole thing, a huge boat had been rented, and you know, _the works_."

"Ok."

" _It sank._

 _"_ Oh my gosh, really?"

"Yep, sank right to the bottom. No survivors, I think? You'll have to look it up. Terrible, terrible thing."

"And how was this woven into legend?"

"Jason Voorhees sank it, of course."

"Ah, right."

Again she nodded, "Jason Voorhees rose from the lake and boarded a ship filled with partying teenagers. One by one he slaughtered them all, then punctured the hull for good measure." Her face turned dead pan as she spoke and once she was done we all sat silent as she just stared at me.

"Pfffft ha ha ha, _I'm sorry!"_ Suddenly we were all laughing. "I had you didn't I?"

"You made that up?"

"That? No, it happened and kids were blaming it on Jason the next day. He's an easy scapegoat for things around here, weather he exists or not."

"That actually leads me to my next thought but this area _does_ have an atypically high amount of missing person cases."

"Well it is mostly woods and back roads around here, so I suppose I'm not surprised at that. But I've heard his name thrown around in conjunction with some disappearances."

"Anything off the top of your head?"

"Tina Shepard comes to mind. Her whole family had returned to the lake for the summer season, they never returned back home."

I wrote the name down even though I was certain I had heard it before. Never hurts to be thorough. "When you say returned, you mean they're from here or...?"

"They lived here when she was a child but her father died, drowning I think."

"Jeez."

"That's Crystal Lake for you, tragedy is our bread and butter!"

Two nights ago crickets chirped and the mosquitos were so thick, had Rob Dwyer dared to breathe he would have swallowed a lungful. But he had to be quiet, _still_. He had waited a long time for this. His sister, beautiful Sandra, was murdered on this day back in 1985. A spear held by a back woods maniac, a story he's heard the entire rest of his life. He cared little for the name; _the who_ did not matter to him.The only belief he shared with Jarvis was that he was still out here in this woods.

 _He was right._

 _He had the proof._

 _He saw him!_

Except he had seen Rob too. The head turn was slight but it was clear, and Rob unfortunately panicked. _He ran._ Rob wasn't just some chump however, no. He had 12 years military service behind him. He came here to kill the thing, don't blow it. Rob now lay prone on the ground, the crickets raised their voices louder; they were an audience now. He held his breath, trying to listen past this chittering for something, _anything,_ out of place.

*CLUMP* *CLUMP*

The stomping was sudden, as sudden as the fire axe had lodged into his spine. The pain was so much he could not even scream. His mouth hung open but only silence spilled out. Gray weathered hands reach for the handle and grab on tight. Effortlessly it pulled the axe; suddenly Rob could find his voice.

He thought about Sandra. He wanted to scream her name but instead unintelligible dribble shot out. A large mass appears above him holding the axe above their head. Two beady white eyes stare down, but it's too dark for Rob to see anything but blinding white once the edge of the axe buried into his head.

As the mass hefted Rob's lifeless form onto its shoulders, blood flushed out of the wound like heavy lead. It barely remembers Sandra, or cares.

 _Mother calls._

 _ **3.**_

I was huddled over my notepad jotting down ideas the interview had given me. Levi was busy gushing with Megan about her coffee skills, Adam was messing with his sound equipment.

"I'd say that went well." Jeremy huddled close to me and was half whispering.

"I agree, she'll come off well."

"I spoke with Tracy and she said her shift ends around 9 which is…" He looked at his phone. "…4 hours from now. What we should hit in the meantime?"

"I'd really like to look up that boat accident Megan mentioned, maybe find some primary sources?"

"What about the other one?"

"Tina Shepard? Yeah I recognized that one, that one is well documented. There's not much more to it than what she said: Came up here, never came back. Nothing was found after weeks of searching. Signs of foul play for sure."

"I think this place is starting to freak me out."

"Oh only _starting, huh_?"

"Yeah just a little." He smirked. "Okay so while you do that I'll take the boys and we'll go shoot some B-roll."

"Alright."

"Meet at the diner at 8:30?"

"Ah how about you pick me up at 8:30, I'm not walking there."

"Yeah ha, alright." He stood up and looked to the kitchen. "Oooo I've got an idea—hey, Megan?"

"Yes?" She walked in with a great big smile, slowly sipping another cup of coffee.

"Does Mrs. Voorhees have a grave we can film?"

"It's unmarked."

"Damn." Jeremy made a face.

"But I know where it is." Still smiling.

"No way!" Levi had popped in sipping his own cup. "You know where Pamela is buried?"

"Jeez of course, what Crystal Lake townie doesn't know? I can take you."

Jeremy clasped his hands and looked at me, half bowed. "Well that settles it, let's go check out that grave."

"Drop me off at the newspaper?" I asked.

I helped Adam pack up the van and me, Jeremy and Adam got inside. Megan had chosen to drive her own car, she would be leading the way, and Levi asked if she minded if he rode with her. She didn't.

She told us the ride into town proper would be close to 30 minutes; I stared out at the trees flying by as we drove trying to imagine what it would feel like to be running in those woods with someone breathing down your neck. You don't dare look back, you don't even consider it; it'd only bring them that much closer. I shuddered.

"You alright?" Jeremy asked me, he was chewing on a pen cap.

"Hm? Yeah." I snatched it and made a disgusted face. Was he 10? "Kind of lost in this case to be honest."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean—thinking about growing up in a place like this, can you imagine?"

"I can actually."

"Me too." Adam chimed in.

"I grew up in a place exactly like this." Jeremy offered.

"I'm sure but I don't mean what you think I mean. This place has had so much horrible shit happen in it, I can't imagine growing up under _that._ Probably feels like a constant storm cloud."

"I mean, I'm sure it's like that where ever guys like Bundy and Krueger live, right?" Adam asked.

"Oh I'm sure." I replied. "Honestly I'd leave here and never come back."

"Eh it's probably not that easy for people around here." Jeremy said with a shrug.

"No, of course not. Still…" I went back to looking out the window. Again I tried to put myself in those shoes; a ten year old forced to attack the man trying to kill his family. That man gets away; no justice. I'd probably see him everywhere too. That's the fucked up thing about this true crime thing. I'm a passive observer to this terrible thing, I'm devouring every little thing from afar and getting _something_ out of this terrible event that changed someone's life forever. These crimes leave nothing but ghosts in its wake and we're just a bunch of psychics holding a séance, because, like, we love spooky and chilling things. I wanted to scream, instead I made a face in my mind's eye.

I've had this conversation too many times with myself; like doing my part to make sure I'm not a completely fucked up human or something. The falling sun cast shadows across the trees that played tricks with my eyes. I picture faceless people running for their lives, from a specter that wasn't really there.

This case in a nutshell I guess.

We finally began rolling into the town proper. A single hilly main street was all that it was stretching the definition of town into credulity. Courthouse/post office on the right, closed and abandoned store fronts on the right. It broke my heart a little. Some shops were open; bait and tackle; pawn shop; gun store; used clothing; I wondered how any of it makes any money at all.

Megan's car slowed in front of us as we pulled in front of a small two story newspaper office, the Crystal Lake gazette. "Alright, see you here at 8:30?"

"Yuppers." Jeremy gave a halfhearted salute, I just rolled my eyes.

"Hey man, mind if I tag along?" Adam asked me.

"Sure dude, more eyes the merrier."

"Sweet." His long gangly legs unfurled from his spot between us.

"I hate driving alone…" Jeremy grunted before driving off. I pushed the double door open and I was immediately in the "newsroom". It was smaller than I expected, with only 3 desks facing each other surrounded by filing cabinets on all sides. 2 of the 3 desks were empty; at the last one sat a pudgy poor dressed schlub. He had half a sandwich in his mouth and a finger on the keyboard as he looked up at us.

"Uh, can I help you?"

"Yes, hi!" We both waved. "My name is Kelce Sampson, I'm working on a piece about Crystal Lake." I held out my hand which appeared to startle him as he shot up awkwardly to shake it.

"Ed Wilson. What sort of piece?"

"Camp Blood and the 85 massacre."

"Of course, why am I not surprised?" He turned to head back toward his desk, I assume he wanted me to follow so I did. "So what can I do for you?"

"Well I was hoping to get access to your archives, there's a specific incident I wanted to look up."

"We're actually in the process of digitizing our records, it's been a long process." He said apologetically. "We have papers from the 1800's here; most of it is still on microfiche."

"Will you let me take a look? Are they on site?"

"What incident?"

I sighed inwardly. "I was told about a senior class boat trip that sank in the late 80's, wanted to confirm it happened,"

"Oh it happened, 1989. They're upstairs, come on I'll show you."

He led us a few feet away to a door, it was painted exactly like the walls and I had no idea it was even there. A set of wooden stairs were before us and we followed Ed as he slowly climbed. "I imagine you're doing something about all the shit that's happened in this hole." He offered.

"Something like that."

"And Jason Voorhees dude." Adam chimed in, and I wanted to pinch him so bad. Instead I shot him a look. Ed had paused his climb to glance back at us. He chuckled, "Figures."

"Figures?" I asked.

"Lady the legend of Jason Voorhees is like the only thing that keeps this town afloat." He scoffed. "I'm surprised you're not wearing t-shirts to be honest." We reached the top and it was bitch dark and smelled musty. Ed hits a switch and I almost went blind. More filing cabinets, a desktop lies alone in the back corner, a microfiche reader anchors the entire room.

"You ever use one before?" He asked, I nodded placing my bag on the floor. "Everything is categorized by year first, then month. 80's would be in that back corner over there I believe. I've got a deadline." And with a small wave he was gone.

Now it was time to get to work.

 _July 28_ _th_ _, 1989_

 _PARTY BOAT SINKS, NO SURVIVORS._

 _By Staff_

 _Crystal Lake-The town that tragedy can't seem to forget got another dose of it this past week as a boat carrying the majority of the senior class of 1989 has sunk off the west side of the lake. The last communication from the ship prompted search and rescue to make their way to the ship only to find it more than halfway sunken in the water._

 _"I'm not sure what caused them to wait to call for mayday. We're still investigating." Sherriff Garris told reporters in last nights press conference. The 115 foot yacht was rented by students of the class of 89 earlier this year as basically a "last hurrah" for them before they all entered the next phase of their lives. As of press time divers are still scouring the lake floor in search of the bodies but have thus far come up empty handed. "It's very murky down there, it could take as long as week to find them. If we ever do at all." One has been quoted as saying._

 _"I don't understand how this could have happened." Said Charles Wickham, 59, guardian to one of the children believed to be a passenger on the ship._

 _This would be the highest death toll to occur at Crystal Lake since the infamous massacre in 1985 which claimed the lives of 22 people. At this point citizens have to be wondering if the town is under some sort of curse or jinx. With a new decade rapidly approaching we can only hope it brings about a new dawning for the town of Crystal Lake._

 _August 8_ _th_ _, 1989_

 _GRIEVING PARENTS ACCUSE CLPD OF COVERUP_

 _By Staff._

 _Crystal Lake-A group of parents of the class of 89 held a press conference earlier today decrying the lack of speed and updates from the Crystal Lake police department. A party yacht sunk to the bottom of the lake bed 8 days ago and no bodies have yet to be recovered._

 _"This is ridiculous." Says Charles Whickham, 59. "Any attempt at getting updates has been met with more stonewalling."_

 _When asked if he was suggesting that the CLPD was attempting a cover up of some sort Charles had this to say: "If they are I can't imagine why. But they're obviously hiding something; it shouldn't be taking over ten days to find our children's remains."_

 _We reached out to Sherriff Garris for a comment but did not hear back from his office as of press time._

"Wait, that's it?" I was looking at articles a month later and no update. I continued scrolling past, all the way to December, and nothing. I go back through again, slower this time just to make sure I hadn't missed anything. I hadn't. "Hmm." The next article to even mention this is a year later; speaking about the anniversary. So this boat sinks, no one knows why, no bodies are found and there's been zero follow up since then? Even Charles Wickham and the other parents are barely mentioned aside from expressing how much they miss their children. I found this incredulous but yet there it was. 80 some of kids drown and it ends up buried. I wondered if any of the parents from that time were still alive, their spokesman, this Charles Whickham was probably long dead but maybe someone is still out there and hopefully still living in town. According to the article the parents suggest a cover-up but if that's the case then why? Why even bother, what would there even be to cover up?

Just when I thought I had a handle on this story it grows even more weeds.

"Hey check this out." I walked over to Adam who was at the computer checking the digitized records for anything interesting.

"What's up?"

"So I found this interview they did-"He begins pointing at the screen half a laugh spreading through his features as he spoke. "-this dude wrote this book right? 'The Voorhees Curse' and he sounds like a total nut bar. Adam Marcus."

"The what-? How come I've never heard of this guy before?"

"It's like _super_ out of print. I checked amazon and some fucker was selling a used copy for 80 bucks. Like come the fuck on dude, it doesn't even have a cover!"

"We should buy it."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah we can charge the company; business expense."

" _Sweet._ " He excitedly brought up the amazon web page again.

"I'm guessing this was his only interview?"

"Probably."

"Move over, let me read this."

 _August 13, 1993._

 _Snippet of an interview we conducted with writer Adam Markus, author of The Voorhees Curse: what they don't want you to know. Note: The opinions presented here represent that of Mr. Markus and not us or our parent company. Full interview to appear in this Sunday's paper._

 _CLG: You understand the backlash, surely?_

 _AM: Yes, I do. People are often terrified to confront the truth._

 _CLG: You claim in your book that Pamela Voorhees worshipped the devil, yet you offer no evidence to support that._

 _AM: Yes I did, it's right there in the book. It's not my fault you may have missed it. It's well documented that the 1980's were a time of devil worship. Liberals may call it "Satanic Panic" now—oh there was a panic all right…because it was a real threat to our lives. That's why she murdered all those people. She sacrificed them to the dark lord for one reason._

 _CLG: Which is?_

 _AM: To bring back Jason._

 _CLG: That's ridiculous._

 _AM: What's ridiculous is your closed mind. Pamela, driven by her grief over the accidental drowning over her beloved Jason, turned to Satan as a means of bringing him back. The dark book-and I have *scanned* pages in my book, sir-state that "the bodies of 8 thou must obliterate" and so she did._

 _CLG: What you're doing is disrespectful to the people most affected by that tragedy._

 _AM: No, I believe that I'm trying to help them out, sir._

 _CLG: Please explain._

 _AM: The resurrection worked. Jason lived. Or should I say, lives? Young Mr. Jarvis was the first to point it out, he warned us all._

 _CLG: He has spoken out against you._

 _AM: Yes, it's a real shame. We disagree on a very fundamental level: he thinks Jason is just a man, I know he isn't. Jason still stalks those woods; his mother placed a death curse on this town and he's just doing what mommy wants. 85, the Shepherd family, Class of 89 death cruise? They're all connected._

 _CLG: Okay but what, exactly, do you think Jason is then?_

 _AM: He's a hell baby._

 _CLG: A what?_

 _AM: A Hell Baby. They wear our human skin like you and I would wear a suit. It's why he's been able to survive out there._

 _CLG: And not because he's a demon?_

 _AM: He's not just some demon, okay? They use the bodies as vessels to carry out their evil work, once one shell decays they hop into another one; and another; and another._

 _CLG: So according to your…research, Pamela Voorhees worshipped Satan and when she learned her son Jason had drowned she asked Satan to resurrect him?_

 _AM: She wasn't a devil worshipper before this; she just turned to Satan in this time of need; but otherwise correct._

 _CLG: But in order to do so, she would have to kill 8 people first…?_

 _AM: Correct._

 _CLG: And Jason is then resurrected as a…hell baby?_

 _AM: Yes_

 _CLG: And all the deaths you say are connected, is he body hopping after each one?_

 _AM: No, don't be ridiculous. He probably didn't first hop into a new body until Mr. Jarvis first put him down. Ever since then he's likely been periodically switching bodies as needed. Who knows what he could look like now…he could be walking about town among you as we speak._

 _CLG: What caused you to take so much interest in this case in the first place?_

 _AM: I was 10 years old in 1985, same age as Mr. Jarvis. Ever since the news first broke, I always put myself in his shoes, because it could have been me. I grew up here as you know, it very well could have been me. So, ever since then, I devoured all the info I could. I got to meet Mr. Jarvis in college and I remember the day I told him I believed him._

 _CLG: What was his reaction?_

 _AM: Relief, I'd say. He felt like an outcast his whole life because he was always that kid, that kid in the papers with the dead eyes. I told him I was working on a book about it and that I had a theory, one that could perhaps get people to believe him for once._

 _CLG: When did that all change?_

 _AM: I showed him a rough draft. He got very unprofessional, called me all sorts of names and a hack. I appreciate him not stooping so low in public, however. Except now I just put it out there, I suppose. Can you cut that part out?_

 _CLG: Do you really want us to?_

 _AM: I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore does it._

"Jesus." I cringed inwardly and gritted my teeth, he must have gotten roasted after this fully got published. "I'll give him one thing."

"What's that?" Adam asked.

"I kind of want to read the book now." I snorted trying to stifle a laugh. "It's probably _insane._ "

Adam motioned to the microfiche with his thumb, "What about you, you find anything good over there?"

I furrowed my brow and sort of sighed as I answered him, "Just more questions I guess. The sinking happened, they wrote about it, but no real follow up. I don't know if they ever recovered the bodies."

"Man that's wild."

"Tell me about it, I almost wish I could afford a dive team. I'd go down there tonight, shit." I played with the thought in my mind, shaking it off quickly because it'd never get approved. "Some of the parents started talking about a cover up but I can't even imagine what they would be covering up."

"Maybe they did find bodies but they were all cut up?" He had said it so nonchalantly that it didn't even register just how delicious an idea it actually was. My brain began to nibble on it.

"Like…maybe they were murdered?"

"Yeah, maybe. I guess."

Jesus Christ, I thought. Could this actually be happening or were we just letting all this spooky shit get to us. Were we suffering from confirmation bias here; look for a mystery and you'll find a mystery or something like that?

"Cover-up still doesn't make sense." I finally said. "It implies they know there's a mass murderer hiding in their woods and they're completely fine with it."

"Well maybe they are though?"

"Compelling argument."

"People are shitty man, I wouldn't put something like that past anyone."

I took a glance at my phone and saw that it was getting close to 8:30. "Shit. We may have to extend this trip here I think."

"Bitchin."

 _ **4.**_

"Should be up ahead I think." Megan had been leading this makeshift expedition for the last few minutes as they trawled through the Eternal Peace cemetery. It was poorly kept, as there were patches of long grass everywhere. In fact, so few places where mowed that you wouldn't be faulted for wondering if the families who bothered to visit weren't doing it themselves. "Sorry guys, just going by memory here."

"No worries." Levi said. "I'm getting some great footage."

"Oh I'm sure it'll look great up on the YouTube." She said causing Levi to mouth to Jeremy _'The YouTube'?_ Jeremy stifled a laugh caught in his throat forcing him to gag.

"You ok?" She asked.

"I'm good, think I uh swallowed a bug."

As they walked a palpable sense of unease washed over them. It's clear the overgrowth and disrepair of the grounds served to make it that much a worse place to be in. Large gothic angelic statues loomed over them like silent stalkers, despite some missing heads; arms; other accessories. It's possible that made it even worse. Megan led them past some underbrush into a small out of the way clearing in the back of the cemetery. The brush served as some sort of natural barrier, although at this point it's impossible to tell if that's the case. They were so far from the main entrance at this point that when Jeremy looked back it seemed as if the cemetery stretched on endlessly into the horizon.

"I think…yeah this is it." Megan stopped and motioned to the spot at her feet. It was a non-descript patch of dead grass, only remarkable because the grass around it was fine…relatively speaking.

"Uh, how can you tell?" Levi asked.

Megan kneeled down and pushed some of the grass away, revealing a large weathered stick protruding out from the ground. A small silver locket dangled from one of the small branches. Megan reached out to grab it, "Because I left this here the first time I came here. After my dad told me about it." She held out the heart shaped locket for the rest of them to see. "I don't know, I guess I always felt it was weird it was unmarked." She said with a sigh. "So I marked it."

Jeremy kneeled down by the patch of grass and studied the small area. "So she's really buried here, huh?"

"That's what my dad told me." She shrugged. "I'm sorry to say I never actually checked."

Jeremy grinned. "You getting this Leev?"

"You bet your ass."

"Let me get out of the shot."

Levi hovered over the area dutifully getting all he could from the area. Megan stood off to the side, arms crossed as the win picked up. The grass and brush swayed back and forth like drunken school children. Jeremy sidled beside her and stuck his hands in his pockets.

After a moment he asked, "Must've been crazy growing up here, Sheriffs daughter and all."

She snorted. "You have no idea. I was quite the rebel, let me tell you."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckled.

She gave him a look, "Oh yeah. I've actually asked myself if that's why I was drawn to Tommy, that rebellious streak in me.

"And?"

"Ask again later."

"Huh?"

"You never had a magic 8-ball?"

"Ohhh"

She shrugged. "I mean, I'm sure that played a part. I really did care about him." She let the silence hang for a minute, carried away by the sharp win blowing all the trees around. Finally, "Are you guys going to look for him?"

"Hm?"

"Tommy?"

"Oh, yeah that's the plan. We're going to talk to his daughter Tracy, after we're through here."

"Ah. Well tell him I said hi, okay?"

"Sure. Do you know Tracy?"

She shook her head briefly, "No. Well-I mean she works at the diner so I know of her, sure."

"You've never talked to her?"

"No!" She looked incredulous. "What would I say? Hi, I'm Megan; I used to bang your dad back in high school." Jeremy eyes grew a bit wide and he furrowed his brow before he finally burst out laughing. Soon Megan had joined him and suddenly they were both laughing uncontrollably.

Wiping back a tear from his eye, Jeremy could only muster: "Holy shit."

Breathlessly Megan said "Seriously, what an awkward conversation to have."

Eventually both found their composure and the silence regained its stranglehold on the moment. "Do you want to come with us?" Jeremy asked.

" _God no."_

"Ha. Fair enough."

"I appreciate the offer but I think I'm going to stick around and visit my dad after you two shove off."

Levi had continued to film, wandering a little further out past where the "marked" unmarked grave lay. Most of the area appeared undisturbed, nature still untamed as if people don't live only a few miles away. There was this one path though. Not an actual path, it was ground well-worn from foot traffic. Levi wasn't a scientist, there was no way for him to tell for how long or by what. He wasn't even sure if he was right in the first place. Still, it made him feel uneasy and the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up. He suddenly found himself taking a panicked look around but quickly realized how silly he was being. _I'm being ridiculous,_ he thought. "Hey guys? I'm good over here."

"Alright dude, let's head to the van!" Jeremy called back. Levi gave one last look at the so-called path before hoofing it back toward the others. The wind was really picking up now as the sun began it's decent toward horizon. An orange tint began to infect the blue sky as brush, leaves in grass glided along the wind path violently. The expedition began its slow walk back to the cars.

"Well Miss Garris we really appreciate you showing us this." Jeremy said.

"Oh no problem, I hope it makes for some good TV."

"So do we!" Levi added. As they walked on, the angelic tormentors from early lose their teeth. They feel so much less threatening now, it was almost funny in retrospect. Megan began to slow as they approached a crossroad about halfway to the main gate. "Alright boys, my dad's grave is this way-"She pointed a thumb to her right. "It was nice meeting you all. Tell Kelsey I'm sorry I couldn't say good bye."

"Will do Miss Garris."

"Please, it's Megan!" She said as she was walking away, leaving behind a small wave as she did so.

"What a nice lady." Levi said.

"Why don't you marry her, bud?" Jeremy said with a laugh before walking toward the van.

"I feel like that was an attack on my character." Levi said, catching up.

"Very perceptive broseph."

"Guess I'll have to call HR or something."

"Make sure you tell them about the time I rearranged the letters on your keyboard."

The walk down the path felt lonely for Megan. _Maybe I should have gone with them,_ she thought. This was probably the most eventful day she'd had in months, _how sad is that_ she lamented. No, it was a good idea to keep that separation from Tracy. The thought of even talking to her about her father brought her anxiety. She wasn't normally an anxious person by nature, in fact quite the opposite, but this was different. Tommy was different, anytime his name came up or if she found herself reminiscing of times past, she felt butterflies well up in her stomach like she was back to being 16-17 years old all over again.

The wind appeared to calm down a bit forcing all the debris to float back down to earth in disappointment. Her family mausoleum loomed in the distance. It wasn't large or particularly fancy but had houses her family for about 3 different generations. She somewhat hated it because it would just hit her that sooner or later this would be her home for all eternity and she hated that thought. Like the butterflies, the fleeting feeling of being someone invincible who would live forever also would occasionally dance seductively in her mind. As she approached the structure she felt goosebumps appear on her skin, mostly because she really hated this cemetery. It was ridiculous the state it found itself in but no one really cared anymore. Not caring kind of spoke to the heart of Crystal Lake as two massacre's in 5 years claimed all hope as part of its roll call of victims.

As she neared the entrance she began pulling out the key for the gate, fumbling because she's since added about ten more keys to her ring since she last visited. A few twigs cracked behind her but she barely heard it over the din of all trees swaying in the breeze. She had narrowed it down to 3 different keys as they all looked similar and she was certain one of them was the right shape, it ended up being the third keys that turned the lock. _Should have went with my gut!_ She mused.

She was greeted by a cacophony of spider-webs as she entered and she choked down a shriek because she was an adult damn it. Internment niches lined the walls as she fully entered the chamber; there were rows and rows of plaques detailing who lie behind each niche but it was the last two in a row on their own that Megan strolled over to. She sighed inwardly as she read "Hear lies Mike and Sally Garris, reunited at last." And she fought back a tear in vain as a loose on slid down her cheek. "Hi Daddy, Mom." She whispered. "I miss you guys."

She touched the plaque reverently before composing herself. "Oh you'll love this Dad, I had this news crew interview me about the V's." The V's was the name Megan used whenever she spoke about the murders in recent years and her father was in earshot because he had grown more than sick of it long before she had ever moved back. He didn't care to hear about Pamela, or Jason because it usually brought up his least favorite subject: Tommy Jarvis. _That boy is sick, Meggie,_ he'd often say which only drove her to him more but it took a while for him to learn that. He mellowed about it as he got older, obviously, but still he'd rather never hear any of those names again. Megan reveled in needling her father so deep down she somewhat relished this chance to do so. _For old time's sake,_ she thought to herself.

"Yes he came up, in case you were wondering." This conversational tone was something had adopted during the grieving process after his death. She never took the death of her mother well, bus accident, and was determined not to fall down the same whole. A grief counselor suggested this, making the case that if we speak to them as if they're still here then they've never really left. She didn't fully buy that but it made her feel better so she rolled with it because really that's all that matters. "Yes I did bring him up first." She snorted as she imagined him rolling his eyes all while giving her 'that look' all parents get good at giving their children.

"Anyway, they actually seeked me out because of my history and background really. See, I told you that degree would come in handy." She winced at the thought of him freaking out that it ended being _that case_ above anything else that would make her degree suddenly useful. Even in her imagination her father was scary when he was angry. "Honestly they seem to being doing this Robert Stack thing about the town mostly, JV did come up but I don't think they're coming at it from that angle honestly. They seem like just good curious people and not like the leeches you had to deal with over the years. Of course you'd probably call them fake news I bet." She rolled her eyes.

"I know I should come more. I know it stinks that my visit today was because of my 'obsession'. I just hate this place." She shook her head. "God if I could, I'd move you somewhere else but being here was your wish, I get it." She wiped away some dust and cobwebs from the plaque. "If anything I'll come more often to get rid of this shit, gross." As she was finishing up, a shadow filled the gate way plunging her mostly into darkness. Heavy labored breathing could be heard, sounding as if it were filtered through an obstruction. Megan turned around suddenly, getting an eyeful of the mass that now blocked the exit.

With light filtering in from behind it, she couldn't make out anything about it except it was huge. Wide shoulders heaved up and down while it breathed, its features hidden behind darkness although the face appeared way too round in silhouette. Despite it all, she knew what this was.

She'd spent too much time with Tommy Jarvis not to.

Before she could so much as breathe again the mass engulfed her. Its weathered hands clasped around her throat and began to squeeze. Megan pounded at it with frenzied fists but nothing would phase the mass, it only responded with grunts as he exerted more force in his fingers; tendons and bone began to snap when suddenly, as if bored with the previous action, it slammed Megan into the mausoleum wall. And again. And again. And again.

It pulled back as her broken body grew limp before tossing her onto its shoulder before slowly walking back out of the chamber. The blood that had exploded from her body with each slam now lined the back wall of the chamber, dripping heavily cover the plaque her parents now rested behind. The mass scanned the area momentarily, head cocking to the side. Megans eyes were wide open as she hung off its shoulder but completely lifeless. Her neck was clearly smaller than it was before, grooves where it's fingers had lay now imprinted on her porcelain skin. Heavy footfalls slowly dimmed as it went deeper into the forest. It appeared that Megan wasn't the only one visiting that day.

 _Ki-Ki-Ki._

 _Ma-Ma-Ma._

 _ **5.**_

 _ **Long Night at Camp Blood.**_

 _Friday, June 13_ _th_ _1980_

Alice Hardy had seen enough, everyone was dead. How did this happen? She was only in town for a few hours, stocking up on various provisions like gasoline, more bottled water, and other various odds and ends. The girls needed more sanitary napkins, some of the guys wanted more disposable razors; she even got a few giant bags of candies for the kids. When she had pulled onto the main camp road and passed under the giant "CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE" sign she immediately knew something wasn't right. The power was out, for one. Yes it was lights out but at the very least the main counselor cabin should have had signs of life.

Before she had left, Bill and Brenda were in the middle of an impromptu strip monopoly game. Originally a participant the game has simply gotten too rich for her blood. They both said they'd wait up for her and while she didn't necessarily believe that she didn't think they'd be in bed already. She had opened the door to the main cabin and fumbled for the light switch; when she found it she snapped it on as usual to no avail. The power _was_ out. She had called out to both of them and was responded by silence. She considered they might be at the generator but before she'd go check she decided she'd see how the children fared. If any of them had woken up, they might be a little scared she mused to herself.

She had set off for the girl's cabin and slowly approached the door. It groaned anytime you opened it so she had to open it a certain way so that she could check in on them without potentially waking them. She turned the nob slightly and pulled up on it hard, forcing the door itself to become slightly flush with the frame. She pushed slightly and silently the door opened with a soft hush as it floated over the carpet. She eyed each bed carefully, counting in her head. 10 beds, 10 girls; all was well. Each one more asleep than the last. She took the small walk across the road to the boy's cabin and went through the same ritual. Both cabins had the same flaw when it came to the door, probably cheaped out on construction is what she had always thought. Which is pretty crazy when you consider this was a childrens summer camp.

She scanned across the room and slowly counted again. 15 boys, 15 beds; all asleep. She had a nagging suspicious that someone was pretending but decided not to chance making a mistake. She really didn't want to deal with a suddenly awake 10 year old kid. She slowly closed the door and tightly gripped her flashlight, she steeled herself for the walk to the generator on the other side of the camp. She shined her light at various parts of the woods not sure what she was expecting but glad when she saw nothing all the same. She hated this walk during the day much less in the middle of the night with the power off. She picked up her typical snails place, she had laughed to herself because it was something Bill and Marcie had repeatedly teased her about. She let it slide off her back because she had grown to love those two, hell she loved the whole crew: Jack, Ned, Bill, Marcie, Annie and Brenda.

It'd been 6 weeks so far and they had all really bonded, and looked out for each other. It was the 7 of them charged with looking after 25 kids, it could be hell sometimes. She doubted she would have been able to handle the sadness earlier this afternoon with all the police around and searching the lake for Jason. God what a tragedy; she just couldn't bring herself to believe that Jack and Marcie had let just stopped watching him. But she could see the look in Mrs. Voorhees, she must've felt that way. Alice supposed that you couldn't really blame her for that. The wind had picked up and it suddenly had become very chilly. It was going to rain again Alice thought to herself. It was just what the doctored ordered of course; she picked up the pace further, breaking out into a small jog as the trees and wet air whipped passed her.

After a moment she had reached the tiny shack that doubled as a generator room. Bill and the camp owner Steve had showed her how to run it 'just in case' and she mentally ran through those steps as she approached the door. Check the dipstick, pour the gas, flip switch two, and then pump the big red button; easy-peasy, she thought. Alice gently touched the door to push it open but a sudden gust of wind grabbed it and pushed it open wildly. Her heart began to pump rapidly as the whole thing had caught her off guard. She laughed at herself, urging herself to get it together. She walked to the center of the room and fumbled around for the string attached to the only lightbulb, yanking on it once clumsy fingers came across it. Nothing; she expected that. She tried to mentally place where the generator was in relationship to her and began walking in that direction with her arm outstretched. It came intact with the cold metal of the generator and she breathed a sigh of relief. Christ Alice, snap out of it, she thought.

Again she tried to mentally picture where everything was and began feeling around. She found the cap to the gas tank and began to unscrew it. She shined her flashlight at it while she pulled out the dipstick; the tank was a quarter full. Well, that made her task that much easier she thought, at least she won't have to feel for the gas can and try to pour that in the dark. It must have just shut off, she considered. It did that every so often, at least she remembered them saying so. She felt around the machine, it was so rough and coarse to touch and she didn't like it.

At last she found the first one. It was about the size of her fist, more of a lever and with one hand she gripped it tightly. Next to it was the push button; with her other hand she slammed down on it as she flipped the lever upward. The generator came to life with a rumble, it filled the room with a clattering sound that deafened her. Moments later the room was alight as the lone bulb began to glow softly. Satisfied with a job well done, she was resolved to find the rest of the gang as she turned to leave and she froze in her tracks. A scream got caught in her throat and turned into a croak before finding its legs as a full throated scream.

"Oh god, Bill! No!" He hung there limply, a noose tied tightly around his neck on one end and to the rafters on the other. His face was an unnatural shade of blue but it was clear to her that wasn't why he was now dead. An axe was buried in his stomach, the handle pointed at her defiantly as if announcing itself to the entire world. She stared at him, at the axe, horrified, her head swung from the entrance and back to him; and again; and again. She must have missed him by mere inches; lucky was a word that had come to her mind but if this was lucky…? She shuddered and ran.

Lightning split the black sky and just as quickly it began to pour. She was instantly soaked and felt weighted down by invisible bands. The lights were now on everywhere and the horror soon became clear as the light now shining from every bulb on campus. A body pinned to an archery target, she was sure it was Brenda. She fought back a sob; what's happening? Was this a dream? Minutes ticked by and the rain continued to march as fierce as ever. She was nearing the main cabin when she noticed the body lying on the hood of the jeep, the jeep she had returned on. She had to go see who it was; she felt _compelled_ to.

It was Marcy, her throat had been slit and a hatchet had bitten into her forehead. Alice reached out to her tentatively, she wanted to touch her, to cry for her. What about the others, were they dead too? She screamed again, mostly out of frustration and hopelessness than any fear. Although that was there too. She ran back to the main cabin, slammed into the door with her shoulder before shutting it with just as much ferocity. She locked it in a panic and slowly backed away from it, her mind racing as fast as her heart pumped adrenaline. Alice grabbed hold of her shoulder, she shivered. The sudden change in temperature has shocked her to her core. She wished the fire was still going but was too scared to make the move to do something about it.

Suddenly, a pounding at the door. It was urgent, forceful. Alice shrieked at the sudden sound, it crashed to the ground like glass. She looked around frantically for something, anything that she could defend herself with. Firewood. It was big, it was heavy, and it checked all the boxes. Alice scrambled to the fireplace, sliding to her knees to the pile of wood that lay just adjacent. Water fell from her loose strands of hair like rocks as Alice reached out for a piece of firewood and grabbed the first one that her hands could fit around. She got up slowly, steeled herself so that she could do so without dropping her makeshift weapon. It took a moment, but she slowly inched a foot forward.

"Hello?" A voice slid in from the other side of the door. Alice froze again, it sounded familiar but she couldn't be sure. She gripped the wood tightly, its rough edges biting hard into her skin. She swallowed heavily before stammering, "W-who's there?"

"Is that you Alice? It's Mrs. Voorhees! Let me in dear, it's alright." Mrs. Voorhees? Oh god, a friendly face, Alice thought. She let the log tumble from her hand as she felt the tension in her muscles loosen. It landed with a loud thud, snapping her out of her stupor. She stumbled over to the front door, and unlocked the door. She sung it open and hugged the woman; mostly out of relief, but partly out of sorrow for her loss too. Mrs. Voorhees returned the hug slightly but then moved Alice to arm's length. Mrs. Voorhees smiled at her, she looked so reassuring.

"It's alright dear, you're alright." She said while she brushed a strand of hair from Alice's face. Pamela Voorhees was in her early 40's, but she appeared older. She worked so hard to provide for her son and it showed. She kept her hair short just so it'd be one less thing to worry about, and she did a little bit of everything for the camp. She was mostly the camp cook, but she chopped wood, fixed things around the cabins; she was basically a handyman that owner Steve relied on for a lot.

"They're all dead!" Alice screamed, she had given up on not crying. She felt safe enough to cry.

Mrs. Voorhees whipped around with a look of concern. "Who's dead, dear?"

Alice choked back a sob, "Bill…Macie…Brenda…oh god!" Alice began to cry again but Mrs. Voorhees quickly embraced her. "There, there, shhh shhh." She said. "It's alright, you don't have to worry anymore." Pamela stroked Alice's hair like one would do to an injured pet. Alice was so glad she was there, maybe she was right. She would be safe. This paternal displayed only served to make her heart sink further, as she was suddenly reminded about Mrs. Voorhees son Jason, who had drowned earlier that day. Just as quickly, it something occurred to Alice. She broke away from Mrs. Voorhees, eyeing her fitfully.

"W-what are you doing here?" She asked. "Your son..."

"Jason?" Mrs. Voorhees blinked and looked through Alice. She turned away from Alice and stared at the dead fireplace. "He's gone, yes. They couldn't find him." She took another step toward the fireplace as she spoke. Alice swallowed heavily, unable to really process what was happening here. "I came back to ask; you see I just couldn't stand not knowing."

"A-ask what?" Was all Alice could muster. Mrs. Voorhees turned suddenly to face her; eyes wide like two suns. "Why was no one paying any attention?" she let the sentence hang there like heavy smoke before regaining her composure and, in almost a sing song sort of tone, she said "You know he wasn't a very good swimmer." Alice began to back up slowly, her fight or flight system slowly shifting into pure flight mode. She wanted to say something, maybe keep the woman talking but when she opened her mouth only silence spilled out. Mrs. Voorhees lunged at Alice, grabbing her by the shoulders to keep her in place.

"Jason should have been watched!" Pamela slapped Alice so hard the shock alone would have sent her flying even if the force could not, but that was moot because it did. Alice lie in a heap on the floor but when Mrs. Voorhees had turned away she slowly began crawling backward on her elbows. "Look what you did to him…" Mrs. Voorhees cried, the fury in her voice rising with each word. She spun back around to face Alice, a large hunting knife now brandished. "LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO HIM!"

With a primal scream, Mrs. Voorhees lept on to Alice but, quick thinking, Alice rolled to her side. The knife puncture the floor where she had previously lay. Not bothered to gawk any further, Alice lept to her feet and charged out the front door and out into the rain. Mrs. Voorhees sighed heavily as she pulled the blade from the floor. She looked on out the doorway into the rain, visibly annoyed. It soon formed into a smile that turned itself into a grin. "Kill her mommy." She whispered. "Don't let her get away." She took another step out into the rain and looked to the moon. "I won't, Jason." This time in her normal voice. "I won't."

 _ **6.**_

"Can I ask you a question on the record?"

"That depends on what you're asking" _._ Ed Wilson eyed me suspiciously, I found it annoying.

"What's the problem man?"

"Ugh." He shook his head and slowly blinked at me. "Nothing, sorry. Listen-this Voorhees shit pisses me off like nothing else. It's old."

"Yeah man, we get that." Adam said.

"Yeah." Ed shook it off. "Ask your question?"

"Was the yacht sinking in 89 really not followed up on?"

Ed shut his eyes again as if he was slowly counting backwards from ten. "They just never found any bodies, it stopped being a sexy story barely 2 weeks later, that's all."

"Did you forget I asked this to be on the record?"

He shrugged. "I don't give a shit, I'm retiring at the end of the month. Thank god."

"Getting out of dodge, eh?" Adam asked.

"As far as I fucking can."

"So no one knows why it sank?"

"Lady, no one really cared. We're some podunk town in the shadow of the city; our claim to fame is a spree killing."

I just stared at him exasperated, retirement couldn't have come at a better time. What a miserable prick he was. I sort of just tapped the desk with my index finger and told him, "Alright, thanks for your help." I started for the door.

"Have a good one man" Adam said as he passed which was met with a grunt as typing resumed in the background. I clutched my jacket closer to my chest as we stepped outside. A strong gust had blown through town momentarily dropping the temp slightly before returning to normal. It had gotten dark during our time inside; the street had gotten a makeover and now resembled an abandoned town found at the end of the world in so many movies. A single street light shined a few feet away serving as the only illumination in all directions. The other lights flickered uselessly and only served as a tease for what you can't have.

I checked up and down the street hoping to catch a glimpse of the van to no avail. I checked my phone for the time, only 8:25; not technically late yet. That being said, it was so empty I'd imagine I'd hear that van pulling in from outside of town, never mind if they were close by.

"Maybe they're lost?" Adam offered.

"Sure, they went down the wrong block in a one block town."

"Sounds like something Jeremy would do, lets me honest."

As if to stop my smart ass reply, I heard the familiar roar belonging to our van. Seconds later the street became illuminated as the van pulled onto the main stretch of street. I slowed to a stop beside us, I could see Jeremy had a grin I recognized. _He actually did get lost, holy shit._ Levi got out of the passenger side so that I could hop in. He joined Adam in the back.

"So how was the grave?" I asked as I sat down.

"Pretty fucking cool, gotta be honest." Jeremy answered.

"Megan got tired of tagging along?"

"Yeah I'm pretty sure she did. Levi was creeping her out."

I spun around in my seat in mock exasperation and looked at Levi with wide eyes. "My _god_ sir, do we need to have another talk with HR?"

"Hardee-har-har" He replied while simultaneously giving me the finger. I turned to Jeremy and grinned.

"Think you can get us to the diner on time or should I google map it?" I asked him, I was riding the momentum of this bratty mood I was in.

"Believe it or not I totally passed it three times so I think I know where it is now for sure."

"100 percent?"

He shrugged and rocked his head from side to side slightly. "Eh, let's say 85."

"Good enough for me." I buckled myself if. "Oh! Do you think we could get this trip extended a bit?"

He pulled out and shrugged. "I don't know, probably. Why?"

"Well sir, let me tell you about what we found in there."

His eyebrows raised slightly, "Oh? Do tell."

"Tell him about the book we bought." I shot a look at Adam after he said that.

" _You bought a book?"_

I waved Jeremy off. "Don't worry, it wasn't a lot of money."

"It doesn't even have a cover." Adam added.

Jeremy grunted. "So?"

So I told him, about the sinking, the lack of answers, all of it. I also told him about the book, just because I knew it'd make him laugh too. I left out Adam and I's little theory, mostly because I didn't quite believe it myself. Jeremy was quiet for a moment when I was done.

Finally, "You should get Johnny on the phone."

Johnny was our producer in New York, "Yeah?"

"Yes, put him on speaker. Let me do the talking.

" _God fucking damn it._ " She hissed through gritted teeth, it was Tracy Jarvis' 3rd burn of the night, 5th in the past week. She hated cooking, kitchen duty in general but Jose called out and she was all they got. When they first asked her if she wanted to do some training in the kitchen, she was so excited she nearly jumped at the chance. She was pretty naïve then, thinking it'd lead to a pay increase at the very least which, predictably, it did not. "You're still using too much oil." Joe offered from his tiny room he tried to call an office.

"Kindly eat my ass." She shot back, at this point being fired would be a sweet relief. Not that he would at this point, she was the only one who had stuck it out over the years. Most move on eventually, either to the city itself or just some less shittier, slightly less smaller, small town elsewhere. "Orders up!" She placed a hot plate on the counter and waited as Sally waddled up to her, she was the other lifer around here.

"Thanks hon."

Tracy started scrubbing the grill, it was getting close to closing and they had a single customer. If someone new walked in she'd eat her hair net. "Those people still coming?" Joe asked.

"I assume so." She said with a sigh.

"You don't think they'd want food?"

"Fuck no, who'd willingly eat here? No offense Jimmy." Jimmy sat in the back corner, at his usual booth. He shot a wave in her direction without missing a bite.

"I'm almost offended."

She grunted in response, the grill was defiant tonight. To break the silence Joe asked "I'm surprised you agreed to meet them."

"I mean-I wasn't but they offered me money."

"How much?"

"Three K."

Joe whistled. "Is that even ethical?"

"Not my problem." She shrugged and then gave up on the scrubbing for now, lighting up a cigarette. "I think they want me to take them to see Dad."

"Do you even know where he is?"

"Yeah, he still tries to keep in touch." She sat silently for a moment, contemplatively sucking on the cigarette and slowly exhaling after each puff. Each one more exaggerated than the last. "Anyway that money is going in the 'getting the fuck out of here' fund." She said while stabbing out the remaining butt.

"Oh? What's it up to?"

"Three K."

"Before or after today."

"After. You pay me like shit remember." Tracy had lived in Crystal Lake her entire life; mostly due to her father. Long after she had gotten sick of his shit, she still couldn't bring herself to leave him and it behind. When you grow up as the daughter of the town loon, it wears you down. At first you defend the person from all comers with passion until you're well beaten down and joining in yourself. Which then causes you to fall into a particular kind of self-loathing reserved for your most darkest hours and lowest points. It is what has gnawed at her for the last 5 years, the should she or should she not cut off all contact tug of war she'll likely continue playing for years to come if she was honest with herself. It's not like she had a bad childhood; he was a good father in the strictest dictionary defining sense of the word. He provided for her, he made sure she went to school; he never beat her or treated her poorly.

But the obsession that consumed his life dragged her under too, as much as he tried to keep that part of his psych from her as best he could, it was an impossible task because it all but poured out his very pores. You couldn't walk by her father without seeing or hearing Jason Voorhees emanating from his aura. Everyone thought he was crazy. At first he was just a traumatized kid who everyone should feel for. He went through so much, his mother was killed in front of him; his sister would have surely met the same fate were it not for his quick thinking. But as he got older, people started tuning him out. As a child she could feel the second hand shame people felt toward him. Eventually it started to feel as if it were transferred onto her and that was when she began to turn.

Her father would try to get her to understand but she would eventually close up her heart and mind to it like someone would close as really long book. With a thud and some cursing. She had completely lost it with him, she didn't quite understand PTSD or get it at all. N She just wanted him to get over it already, which in retrospect it wasn't very fair. Her therapist eventually got her to understand what was going on with her father, but also stressed that it wasn't fair to expect her to understand and that her feelings are valid in their own way. Still, she felt nothing but guilt which manifested itself in the crusty brash outwardly figure she presented herself as. It masked the pain in many way but it could make her hateful too if she wasn't careful.

Sometimes she wondered if it was too late to just start over, her therapist doesn't seem to think so, but facing something like that is incredibly hard and if there is one thing she knew about herself 100 percent it was she loved taking the easy road. Was the money the real reason she agreed to meet these reporters. She scrubbed harder at the thought, mad at herself and the grill because it wasn't the only reason. She thought maybe this could be her in, maybe it's time to turn the corner on the whole thing and start fresh. Let her dad know that she understands, she gets it, and because she never said it before: that she was sorry.

Silence filled the diner save from the scratching of the brush against the grill; papers shuffling; the fork hitting the plate; and Sally's grunts each time she hacked, which grew in frequency and intensity as the years passed. It was such a small space the sounds became deafening before long. The kitchen was cluttered with spilled detritus that squished with every step Tracy took as she walked from the grill to the sink and back again. She paused a moment to marvel at her work, she'd made a small dent in the dark crust that covered every inch of the surface. She wondered if she was losing her mind. She rolled up her sleeves and started again, humming the theme from space jam because it had suddenly popped into her head for no reason whatsoever. She changed the words a bit in her head, _Hello darkness my old friennnnnd, we will be together to the very ennnd._ She'd decided that she was going to use the fact that these people are coming as her way to get out of this. Just as soon as they arrive, say deuces and leave, Joe would be fine with that. She dismissed the idea immediately because that would be shitty and she hit her shitty quotient for the evening.

"I hate you sometimes" She said to no one in particular, but really to reflection she catches in the metal around her.

"I love you too kid." Joe shot back.

She winced and returned to the task. She couldn't believe she was actually going to do this, this meeting. She watched the show on YouTube once or twice; she lived on mystery/paranormal Twitter during what passes for free time, when she's not battling the forces of grime and dirt. She knew what kind of work they did. They took the stuff fairly serious, never condescending—or at least in the final product anyway. Who knows how these people were in the so-called real world. Tracy suddenly found herself very nervous. Anxiety flared up in her like an old flame, she was surprised it took this long for that to creep in. Anything to do with her dad was likely to do that in and of itself but it figured it was the prospect of _meeting complete strangers_ that was the flashpoint.

She tried to imagine what they were going to ask her, and if she was going to even go through with this at all. The more she thought about her father the more wigged out she became. It's been six months, she realized. What a shitty way to re-enter your father's life. Still, maybe someone taking him seriously is what he needs after all this time. Plus, the money. She imagined they'd be disappointed to learn she won't be able to tell them about that night from her perspective, because she didn't want to know. All she knew about it was what they knew, because of course she looked it up. But she never dared ask him about it. And he may be thankful for that, he probably never wanted to have to have a sit down heart to heart about the time his mother and neighbors were _brutally murdered._

At least that would be how she would like to think of it, not because she was a bad daughter or anything. At some point she stopped seeing her dad as a regular person, a fellow adult. She couldn't relate to him on that level, and she didn't quite understand why. She may never. The brush needed rinsing again, more things squished as she made the 5 step walk over to the sink. She felt like an automaton with each step. She felt numb, a defense mechanism for anxiety attacks she had developed as she grew older. Before she knew it she was back at the grill, an even bigger improvement than the last time greeted her upon her return. Her phoned chimed just as she had started and she debated checking between checking it now or just hunkering down. The main thing that held her back was the fact she would have to take off her gloves, which were a pain to get back on and off. But then again it's not like she was talking about going for a run here or anything, just removing and reapplying gloves.

She shook her head and peeled the tight pink dishwashing gloves off her hand, reached into her apron and pulled out her phone. _We got lost. Be there in 15?_ It read as she glanced up at the clock on the wall. 8:55, where had the time gone? Clearly she had been more into the grill than the grill was into her, the thought made her chuckle internally as she typed out: _Make it 20, still got some cleaning to do._ She placed the phone back into her apron and peeled the glove back onto her hands, grimacing as she did so. She grabbed the brush and stood over the grill like some warrior readying for the killing blow. She was calm all of a sudden, maybe this meet won't be a complete disaster. Sometimes you just text click with people and Jeremy was one of those types. They had chemistry, which seemed strange to say when talking about texting but it absolutely was a real thing in her mind. She chuckled to herself at the line of thinking, she was just lonely is what it was. The thought was paused by more grunting as she saw how close she was to being finally finished.

 _Dishes still,_ and she sighed inwardly.

When we finally pulled up to the tiny diner it was eerily quiet and mostly deserted. The lights inside were dim but 2 people could be seen inside still with only 2 cars still in the parking lot. One was a fairly older and fatter man, his hair thinning and going gray at the top. He wasn't obese but was clearly overweight, probably too many beers when he gets home; a tradition that will no doubt continue on later tonight I was sure. The other was a young woman, she had a medium length bob cut with nearly jet black hair. I saw her speaking and gesticulating toward the older man, maybe some sort of argument but if it was he didn't seem too plussed about it. Maybe it was just how they spoke to each other.

They came out together; she held the door open for him and I could see her get visibly annoyed as he had to run back inside; he had forgotten the keys. Their speech was muffled from here in the car so I couldn't make out what they had been saying to each other. Finally as he shut out the lights and began locking the door, I saw her half heart a wave as she stood looking at her phone. Jeremy flashed the high beams to get her attention.

"That's not sketch at all." I said.

Still, she noticed and began walk in our direction. Jeremy smiled and rolled down the window. "Tracy, right?" He said.

"That's me, you must be Jeremy." She held out her hand for a brief shake. "Why don't you guys follow me? We can sit at this bar nearby. Hardly anyone is in there so we should be able to get some talking done."

"Can we film in there?"

She shrugged, "Probably not. You guys can't film me right after work ends I look like shit!"

"Well we don't have to film right now, this can just be a prelim interview right?"

He glanced at me and I wondered why he'd even say such a thing, we practically filmed everything. "Uh, right." Was all I said back.

"Cool. So, follow me?" She slapped the car door awkwardly and began walking to her 1996 Chevrolet Monte Carlo. It was weathered heavily, it's once vibrant blue paint job now a sickly pale teal at best. Her back bumper was missing, and a trash bag covered her rear window sealed with duct tape. "Jeez and I thought your car was a piece of shit, Jer." I laughed.

"It's a classic." A 96 Thunderbird was not a classic, at least his wasn't. I let the comment just hang there a bit as Tracy attempted to start her car up. It looked like it took multiple attempts before it finally groaned to life with all the confidence of a man on his deathbed. I was being judgmental and frowned, it had been a long day. We followed her out of the parking lot, turning immediately right down a winding two lane blacktop. We were surrounded on both sides by endless shrubbery, this time I didn't try to see myself in all the movement, figuring it'd do more harm than good to my nerves.

The only illumination present anywhere came courtesy of our headlights. Not a single street light was in sight and even the moon seemed to be just little more dimmer than you'd expect. Jeremy lowered the window a crack, mumbling something about being hot. I thought he was crazy, but I was always cold.

"Okay so we got an extra day, what else should we add to the agenda?" He asked me.

"I think we should sit down with Sherriff Perkins some more. Also, I think we should go to the lake…" He double-taked in my direction, furring his brow as he did so. "What?" I asked, incredulously.

"The sheriff told us it was specifically off limits this time of year."

"Well don't be a baby about it, how would he even know we're there?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe it's the mystery machine we're currently riding in."

I scoffed. "We'd get some good footage, what's the harm?" Levi chimed in.

Jeremy shook his head briefly before relenting. "Yeah, alright."

"Got any suggestions of your own, fearless leader?" I asked him.

This time he scoffed. "Our anonymous source, you know they guy who told us he found Jason the next day?"

"I never believed that guy."

"Yeah no one does, but I think I can convince him to meet with us."

"Yeah?"

"I've been emailing back and forth with him about it. Actually it's my turn to reply."

"Really? Can I see?"

He handed over his phone without taking his eye off the road. I swiped up and unlocked it, I knew his pin code because, well I just did. He happened to know mine, we were just that good a friends. How long have we been working together now? Probably almost 6 years now. We had actually first me interning at CNN, those were the pits. We basically got coffee for the anchors and were occasionally allowed to edit a piece or two but we never did our own stuff. We had a passion for hard hitting journalism, but we never got the chance. Or took one if we're being honest.

We signed on with Next Level media, mostly thankful for a job and a chance to do actual work. And sure we're not doing anything hard hitting but true crime was and is a passion that drove us; if some company was willing to pay us to do that kind of research and to shine a light on cases people often forget about than why not do it? I could picture the pitch meeting for this one like it was yesterday. We had wrapped our first "Season" where we tackled cases like the phantom killer of Texarkana, the zodiac, EARONS, and the like. The four of us really bonded over all that work, traveling the county and talking to so many different folks.

For this next year we had decided to murder sprees and serial killers that had a bit of mystery to them even if the perpetrators were known. Like Krueger in Ohio and who formed the lynch mob that killed him before he could be put on trial. Or Michael Myers in Illinois who has remained mute the last 40 years rotting away in a mental health prison. And this, the Voorhees spree, or Camp Blood slaughter as it was colloquially known. It was a nationwide story when it happened, and even more so the second time around, but it stopped being the sexy story to talk about.

In a way Ed Wilson hit the nail on the head when he said what he said. Our own boss Johnny had never heard of it, he needed to understand just why this was _the_ perfect case to tackle. "Ok so I get how this could seem like a simple no nonsense backwoods spree killing-or killings-"I remember I said to him. "But when you look at everything surrounding the case, all the little things that are easy to forget as time goes on: That the original survivor was murdered 5 years later, which kicked off another spree by an unknown assailant. That a young boy was one of the lone survivors; that another family vanished from there a few years later. There's so much to sink your teeth into, we could be the start of renewed interest in the whole thing."

The last point was where my mind was really at. Months earlier the Original Nightstalker was finally captured and arrested, decades after his last crime. What if, just what if, we kick started something like that happening? Of course I realized how self-serving that could come off so I eventually backed off from that feeling, but it didn't change that it was an exciting time in my line of work. As we rounded another bend I looked over the email that Jeremy had yet to reply to:

 _Mr. Harris,_

 _I understand that you have reservations about airing footage of a shadowy figure speaking against the established narrative but I value my safety and privacy more than ratings or clicks or whatever it is you might care about. I've lived in Crystal Lake a long time and I'd like to live out my remaining time as not a target of harassment from my former employers, they're crooks and liars. I hope you enjoy your time at Crystal Lake._

 _X._

I pursed my lips in thought, it felt to me that this person was looking for a reason to go public. If anything to put these liars in their place. I turned to Jeremy, "Can I reply?"

"What are you going to say?"

"You don't trust me?" I began typing.

"Just tell me what you're going to say, before you hit send."

"Of course." I had written out a whole paragraph before erasing the entire thing. I felt I needed to go simpler here, casual.

 _X._

 _I'd hate to have this trip be without even meeting you sir, and personally I'd love to hear more about these liars in the PD; maybe they need to be exposed? Would you be adverse to coffee?_

 _Jeremy Harris._

I read my message back to Jeremy as I noticed some sign of civilization up ahead. A dimly lit bar sign came into view as we turned into a lot currently occupied by exactly 2 cars and what motor cycle. A sign was hanging below the name "Earls" that said simply: Get beer here, as cold as your exes heart. I had to chuckle at that one. "Well?" I asked him. "Should I hit send?" Tracy had pulled into a spot in front of us and motioned for us to park beside her. Jeremy finally said, "You think that'll work?"

"Well, I mean obviously I do." I waited a beat. "What would you have said?"

"Eh probably something long winded." He shut off the van. "Okay, go ahead and send it. Fuck it." I laughed and hit send as we all piled out of the Scooby van. Adam stretched exaggeratedly, but I could understand why. He was over 6 feet tall, probably 6'6" but I've never bothered asking, because it just seemed rude I guess. Adam's height made me and Jeremy and Levi look like little people, and I was pretty sure both guys were almost or actually 6 feet tall themselves. I was short, of course, 5'3", but I got used to an entire world taller than me a long time ago.

A lone street light illuminated the parking lot, and illuminating was a generous word to use all things considered. Tracy began walking toward the entrance as I looked the outside over. It was grungy; faded graffiti had marked the wall but it still managed to stand out as the mint green paint chipped and weathered away. Beer advertisements plastered what would normally be windows in your everyday grocery store. Flyers advertising an upcoming show were also plastered about which really took me by surprise. Some performer actually traveling down here to play a show boggled my mind but then I noticed the date: November 12th, 1999. And suddenly the world made sense again. A makeshift set of shoddy put together wooden stairs lead to the main door of the bar. It was only 3 steps really but I still worried it'd collapse any minute and I'd probably break my ankle.

Luckily we survived and we were greeted by probably one of the most depressing bar I'd ever been too. A cluttered bar top was flanked by 4 haphazard tables that looked lonely without any chairs but those were stacked in the corner, it was not like they needed them. Behind the bar a grizzled mountain of a man glared at us from behind bushy eyebrows.

"Friends of yours, Trace?"

"She looked back at us and shrugged, "More or less."

"This place is bitchin." Adam said while walking past me. I was too busy checking out the walls to respond but Adam was very 'punk rock' so him loving this place was not surprising to me in the least. Say what you will about this place, and I'd certainly thought it, but they had an amazing collection of booze lining the walls. Actually he overall décor on the inside wasn't half bad. Once you get passed the depressing first impression, which is strong, you'd find a place with cool movie posters decorating the walls to compliment the impressive booze collection.

Tracy had gone to the corner to corral a few chairs for one of the tables, Adam Levi and Jer all grabbed their own; I had walked over to the bartender trying to decide what I felt like trying. Instead I went with something quick and easy, a Long Island Iced tea because I was and probably always will be a basic bitch. "What do you guys want?" I asked. "On me." On the company really but who was asking.

"PBR" Adam shouted.

"Same." Levi added.

"A Pepsi." Jeremy joined in, and the rest of us audibly groaned. "I'm driving, assholes."

The bartender was already grabbing things as they were said, which I appreciated. I looked him over, wondered if I was wrong about my first impression and I decided I was not. He was huge, but not tall huge; he had a wide frame. His face was a tangle of bush; a thick dark beard covered his lower half while thick bushy eyebrows made its home and seemed to cover the rest. It all made his cue ball head really stand out. "Are you _the_ Earl?" I asked with a small, awkward, smile.

He eyed me for a bit, "Nah, seemed like a good name for a bar."

I raised my glass at him slightly, "I can respect that." I took a sip before realizing I didn't ask Tracy what she wanted. "Jeez I'm such an asshole, what did you want Tracy?" It dawned on me I never even introduced myself either, Christ.

"I know what she wants." The bartender said and he produced a huge bomber from behind the counter. It said Arrogant Bastard Ale. "She makes me get the stuff, only for her." He winked and it caught me completely off guard.

"Alrighty." Was all I could muster out. I carried the drinks over with surprisingly little difficulty, I guessed I just somehow became good at carrying drinks. As I sat down I looked at Tracy and said, "Hey I'm sorry I'm a rude bitch. I'm Kelsey." I reached my hand out to shake and she calmly took it with a smirk.

"No worries I'm bad at that shit too." She paused and took a drink. "Now hold on, let me guess…" She motioned to Adam. "…you're Adam the sound guy, and you're Levi the camera dude?" Both of them nodded in the affirmative. "So do you guys really have to have me on camera for an interview?"

"Well," I considered. "I mean we don't _have_ to but we'd like to."

"Ideally..." Jeremy added. "Ideally we'd like to have both you and your father on camera together."

Tracy made a face and took another long swig of her beer, I found myself counting each gulp she took and stopped myself at 6 as I suddenly felt creepy. She burped loudly when she was finished. "Ah-sorry. Good luck with that I guess." Was all she said.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"I guess I should have said so earlier but I haven't spoken to my father in like 6 months? Fingers crossed he's not too pissed with me eh?" She said while raising her eyebrows. It was clear to me her nonchalance was mostly an act and I sympathized. I probably hadn't spoken to either of my parents in months either, although I suspected her reason was less shitty than mine as I was just lousy about keeping touch and a tad narcissistic. I focused more on myself and my career than keeping family ties strong, it was a moral failing on my part and I often told myself I'd get back to it sooner or later. Ask me about it publicly and I too would probably play it off as no big deal.

"You do know where he is, don't you?" Jeremy asked.

She bit down another large gulp. "Oh yeah, we can set off in the morning or afternoon. Up to y'all." I was taken aback somewhat by her use of the word 'Y'all' which I hadn't heard as much since I left Arkansas and forcefully broke myself of the habit. Not that I spent much time in south Jersey really, but with how globalized the world is thanks to the internet I supposed it wasn't that surprising to hear it over here. I started going over my mental rolodex to see if I had heard it other times before giving up, I summarized that it was likely that I had and that it was a pointless exercise. Adam probed her with some small chat as I dug in my purse for my handy notebook. The last thing I heard him say was: "Dude I wish I could not talk to my father for six months."

Levi nodded in agreement while he nursed his PBR. He was more of a hard liquor man but had sworn himself off it for the time being after he made an ass of himself at an office party. He got very belligerent but luckily just to us and not anyone who mattered. He had asked me to help him make sure he stuck to it but it turned out he didn't really need that. Just the occasional bit of encouragement which I was happy to provide, as long as I could occasionally still bust his balls. I honestly had trouble imagining our friendship without it.

"Okay, let's go through with this prelim interview." I said eyeing Jeremy, who I hoped got why I said it with a sardonic tint.

"Okay, but explain this prelim thing to me." She said.

"It basically gives us an idea what we're going to ask you on camera and to essentially get you comfortable."

"Ah."

"Honestly just think of it as just a casual conversation, like what we're doing now." I chuckled to no one in particular except myself. I started with an easy one.

"Okay, have you lived in town your whole life?"

"Unfortunately."

"And how old are you?"

"25. This feels less casual, for the record." She grinned.

"Hah, fair enough."

"Let me ask you guys a question."

"Shoot."

"Why this case? Most people stopped caring when I was 15."

"There's a lot to it, I guess. The case I mean."

"That's a BS answer."

I got slightly offended. "How so?"

She studied me for a second, taking a small sip from her bottle. "Thunderstruck" from AC/DC suddenly sprang to life from the jukebox; surprising because that thing looked so dead I couldn't have been bothered to describe it earlier. "Honestly? I think you're gore hounds. You dig the crime scene photos, the real nitty gritty detail of each crime you cover is what really excites you." She drank again. I sat with my arms folded, a mix between amused and impressed.

I smiled eventually, "Honestly there just isn't _a_ reason, there probably never is." She continued to look at me; I scratched the side of my cheek in thought. "I suppose there's a part of me that likes the 'nitty gritty' of a crime scene-as you put it. There's also the mystery of it too and—"I closed my eyes and shrugged. "Well, I guess I like getting spooked by shit. Hell, the creepier the better." Jeremy just sort of smirked and shook his head, he expected this sort of honesty from me by now. I had nothing to hide from the people I cover. Oftentimes I'm asking them to bare their souls to me, can I not at least not be fake with them?

Tracy smirked at me. "So what's the creepiest thing about this case to you?"

I considered the question for a moment, I had a few to choose from. Pamela Voorhees beheaded; the original survivor being murdered; the fact the children slept through it all just to name a few. I decided to go with the thing that first got my eye: "The police sketch." Levi and Adam both reacted positively, the three of us often spoke about it.

Tracy nodded slightly, "The one based on my father's description of the psycho."

I nodded back. "It's the first thing I ever saw to do with this case."

"It's a guy in a hockey mask, what's not to be creeped out by?"

"I always come back to how dark they made the eyes."

She nodded, "I often think the quality of the drawing adds to its creep factor." She chugged down the rest of her beer, polishing it off with a satisfying smack of her lips. "Alright, you guys pass."

I laughed. "Pass huh?"

"Yeah, shit if I wasn't feeling comfortable tomorrow _was not_ going to happen!" she replied with a grin. "Alright last round's on me, or at least my tab." Again she grinned. "Y'all want the same?" Levi and I passed but Adam and Jeremy both answered in the affirmative. I watched her walk up to man mountain bartender and make some small talk before asking for the drinks. I turned back to Jeremy and smirked.

"Hey we totally passed."

"She seems nice!" Adam said

"That's because I'm totally nice." She said as she handed him his drink. She handed Jeremy his soda and sat down with a noticeably smaller beer. She noticed me looking at her and said, "I gotta drive home after all."

I was sure I turned a shade of red. I waved her off and said, "I'm sorry, I must have looked like a judgmental bitch didn't I?"

She laughed, "No no no, I just think everyone's judging me at all times." We all had a good laugh at that one. I noticed my notepad sat open in front of me untouched so I snapped it up and returned it back to my purse. Adam had gone up to the bartender and chatted him up about his movie poster collection, gushing about the King Kong vs. Godzilla poster hung up close to the main entrance.

"So how do you want to do this tomorrow?" Jeremy asked Tracy.

"Hmm?" He had caught her lost in her own thoughts, she had been absentmindedly sipping her beer prior to that. "Oh, well we can meet at my place. It'll shorten the trip by a few minutes at least."

Jeremy look over at me, silently seeking my agreement as he said, "Yeah we can do that?" I sort of half shrugged at him, he was the driver here.

"What's a good time for you?" I asked her.

She shrugged, "I try not to get up before 12 most days, but I mean I figure this is a special occasion."

"Twelve is totally fine." I said, I figured we could use the early part of the day to do some more research, maybe even snag an interview with the sheriff. There was also the coffee with our source, if he agreed to it. I told myself to remind Jeremy to let me look at his email when we get to the hotel.

"Awesome, 12 it is. Do you guys have my address?" I looked at Jeremy who was already looking at me, we both shook our heads. "No big, mind if I enter it into your google maps?" She said to Jeremy. He handed her his phone, unlocked, and she zoomed out on the area before zooming back in and placing a pin in a spot west of here. She handed it back with a smile. "If I had typed it in it would have had you drive right into Crystal Lake."

 _ **7.**_

 _ **Weekend of Death**_

 _Friday, August 13_ _th_ _1985_

Alice Hardy was a survivor; it was something she repeated to herself daily. Her therapist suggested it as a way to cope; then again they also recommended that she leave Crystal Lake and she wasn't exactly following that advice now, was she? Ever since that night 5 years ago, she'd suffered from endless nightmares and flash backs about it. She closes her eyes and she hears her voice and sees her disturbed face. Sometimes it's hard to separate the Pamela Voorhees she once knew from the one who walked into the main cabin that night. And the way her head just tumbled in mid-air before finally crashing down into the rocky shore, it made her shudder every time she thought about it.

So why did she stay? Well, she tried moving. Went back home to California; all the nightmares got worse. Even surrounded by friends and family she found no peace. She thought that maybe, just maybe, if she faced it head on she'd be able to start walking down that road to recovery. So one night, without telling a single person, she upped and flew back to the east coast. She rented a small little apartment just off the main room, a garage attached to a decent sized house that had its own upstairs loft and separate entrance. It was cheap and close to the like, so it was perfect.

And being here helped some; the nightmares were infrequent, which was a blessing. Being around all the nice townsfolk brought her back to a time and mind in which things were simpler, even if only somewhat. She thought that maybe in a few more months she'd be more ready to return back home; more ready to continue surviving. The phone rang suddenly and she sighed, there was only one person it could be, same person it always was: her mother.

She snatched the phone from off its base, perhaps a little more aggressive than she intended, knocking the entire thing to the floor. "Shit! Hang on, mom!" She shouted. She pulled the entire thing up by the phone cord rather than bending over to grab it; once it was set back on the table she placed the receiver to her ear. "Hey sorry, I knocked everything over. What? How did I know? No one else calls me." She said flatly. She began to pace and curly the cord around her finger as her mother once again launched into her usual spiel: _When are you coming home? I don't understand why you have to be out there. Blah blah blah._ Her side mostly consisted of "Yes." And "Uh-huh." Ad nauseam but something in her snapped tonight. Maybe it was the solitude, or she was still salty over knocking the phone over, but she exploded on her mother this night. "Y'know I just wish you'd stop hounding me over this. How many times do I need to say it? This is something I just feel I have to do, and you constantly asking when I'll be home is not helping, like at all!"

Her mother went silent after the outburst, and momentarily Alice felt bad. The sound of a creaking door behind her pulled her out of that, however. She whirled around toward her kitchen, staring hard for anything amiss but couldn't really see anything that jumped out at her. By this time her mother had resumed talking, but Alice had missed basically the entire thing. "Listen mom, I'll call you back." She hung up the phone and cautiously walked to her kitchen, which was generous as it was mostly a stove, countertop and small fridge partially walled off from the rest of her bedroom. It was for all intents and purposes her main entry hallway simply repurposed but it worked for her needs.

She peered in and glanced around, the door was slightly ajar. She opened it further and looked around, soft winds greeted her but the walk way was empty. She closed the door softly and stood looking at it for a few moments. She must have forgot to close it all the way; she wanted to believe that, so very much, but she couldn't. Personal safety was very important to her, she had a nightly ritual where she would go through all the windows and door where she'd make sure everything was still secure; she'd never not close her door the whole way. She bolted from her apartment and down to the main house, she stopped at the front door and pounded on the door furiously. There was no answer so she did it again, harder this time. Suddenly the door swung open and a graying older man was on the other side. He was 60 with hardened features; he seemed very annoyed at first but his features softened once he realized who it was.

"Alice, what the hell? Everything alright?" He asked, demanded.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Miller, but…" She glanced behind her and bit her lip. "…would you mind going over my apartment for me?"

He furrowed his brow at her. "What? Why, what's wrong?"

She sighed. "My door was open, I'm…I'm a little freaked out."

Now it was Mr. Millers turn to sigh. He knew what she had been through, and he could sympathize, but he had to confess it was getting a little old. Still, she was a nice girl and she paid the rent on time, he figured he could indulge her every so often. He reached behind the door to grab his hat and walked out to the porch and her. "Alright, let's go take a look."

"After you." She said to him and stepped aside, he couldn't help but smirk at that. They moseyed over to her door together with him in the lead. The door was still slightly open; Mr. Miller pushed it open further with his boot. He stuck his head in and glanced around, satisfied by what he saw-or didn't see-he walked further into the apartment. He first went to the closet and threw that open, nothing. He simple stared inside, wondering what the hell was he doing here. He gazed around the room once more, making a big show of it and then shrugging his shoulders. "Looks fine to me." He shouted back at her.

She walked back in with a decidedly timid posture; she hated feeling this way. "Did you look under the bed?"

He made a face at that but quickly turned around with a more pleasant look. "Of course." He told her. He hated lying but was she serious about that request? It wasn't going to happen, he thought. She sighed heavily, she felt incredibly silly.

"Thank you Mr. Miller, I really appreciate it."

He nodded and walked past her. "Don't mention it." He said gruffly.

Alice followed him to her down and made sure to lock it shut. She sighed heavily again. I need to get it together, she said to herself. She turned her back to the door and leaned on it hard. Mrs. Voorhees was dead, what was she so afraid of? What kept her up at night? She decided she would settle down for the night with some tea while she mulled this and other questions over and over in her mind for the next few hours. Lackadaisically she moved into the kitchen, puffing her cheeks out with every step she took. The kettle sat on the stove, the dull light from the single lightbulb reflecting off its exterior. She reached out for it while throwing open the hot water at full blast. She gave it a moment to steam a bit before she pushed the kettle under the harsh stream. She tapped her toe while this went on; Alice shook her head, still suffering from residual embarrassment minutes after the fact. She was being ridiculous, by her own estimation. She filled the kettle up about halfway before she shut the water down; placed the kettle on the stove, turned up the heat and walked away.

She stared out the window for a good long moment. The grunts, the screams, they both made as she and Mrs. Voorhees fought and struggled, are still fresh. Every quiet moment in her life dwindles into it inevitably. Alice shut her eyes, another vain attempt to block them out; instead that is when the pictures come. That mad wild look in Pamela's eyes; the way she blared her teeth as she attacked and swung at Alice; that look of pure horror when she realized what was about to happen to her.

The head; floating in the distance.

The kettle began to whistle, brining Alice back to the real world. She strolled back into the kitchen to remove it from the stove. She grabbed a glass from her top shelf, her favorite. It read: _All I got was this mug._ That's it. She found it incredibly funny. After pouring some hot water in it, she stood staring down at it, she wondered what tea she was going to have, and what she was going to have in it. She settled on Earl Gray, with a dash of milk. She reached into her cupboard and pulled down a metal tin marked "TEA", she sifted through it before finding the bag she wanted. She opened the fridge.

A head.

 _Her head._

It lay there, displayed in her middle shelf; its mouth slack jawed; flesh peeled and rotted; skull exposed.

 _Mrs. Voorhees._

But how? Why? Alice would have thought all those thoughts and more. But the sight shocked her; froze her solid. She couldn.t move, couldn't scream. Couldn't feel the large hand slip around her throat; or the ice pick piercing in her brain.

 _ **8.**_

It was 8 AM and I felt lousy. 20 year old me would find this hard to believe, but here I was 7 year later nursing a hangover from a single Long Island Iced tea. I was thankful for the spare pair of aviators Adam had brought with him; they kept me safe from the harsh morning sun that sought maniacally to make my headache worse. Jeremy and Levi were inside the local grocery store, Gerdmans, grabbing some last minute supplies like bottles of water and the most important supply a person would need: Excedrin. There was a small part of me that salivated over seeing just how dilapidated this store was but ultimately that jackhammer feeling in my noggin won out.

Adam sat in the back fiddling with his sound equipment. He held one side of a headphone up to his ear and he rewound tape and played it back again. I glanced down at him, and grunted. He looked up at me curiously. "I'm listening to the sound Jeremy took at the cemetery." He offered after a moment. He hit stop on the device and put the equipment back.

"Any juicy conversation?" I asked, half disinterested.

He shook his head in the negative. "I think Levi had the mic positioned too close to him."

"Hm?"

"I don't know, I swear I can hear heavy breathing."

"Ah. Why was he recording sound anyway?"

"I asked him to." He shrugged. "Just in case Megan had anything else to add or something."

"Can I listen?" I asked with an outstretched hand. I figured listening to random noises beat just sitting here. He nodded in the affirmative and handed me the headphones. I placed them gingerly on my ears, careful not to knock the glasses off my face. I heard the click from the play button being pressed. I could hear Jeremy, sounding distant in the background: _…must've been crazy growing up here…_ next were footsteps stepping on what I imagined were leaves, I assumed this was Levi. Then, ever so faint I could hear it: muffled breathing. It could have been Levi, but I figured it'd sound louder. Truth be told, I had no idea if it was actually breathing or not; I considered it could be confirmation bias because that's what Adam suggested it as. Kind of like who people hear what they want to hear with ghostly EVPs, especially when the words itself were shown on the screen or they told you what they heard.

I shrugged and handed the headphones back. "I mean, I can see why you think its breathing."

"But you don't think it is?"

"It could have been anything, I wouldn't put too much stock in it." Despite that, I realized I had goosebumps up and down my arm because of it. Also the pounding had come back with a vengeance because Adam had turned the recording way up; I suddenly hated my life and everyone in it. I turned back in my seat to sulk privately. The van door slid open silently lowed by Levi sliding in a carton of water bottles. Jeremy approached my window and with a smile he handed me the meds and a bottle of water to chase them.

"My hero." I said with a grimace. Like a hungry dog I ripped open the tiny box to get at those pills; before I knew it I had two in my mouth and was chugging down the tiny bottle. Sweet relief, find me soon. While that happened Jeremy had slid into the driver's side, face buried in his phone. "Has he written back?"

He put his phone on the dash, "Nope. Probably scared him off."

I gasped and pointed at myself. He started the car and smiled, luckily we weren't going very far. Last night after the bar I spoke with Sherriff Perkins and asked him if he'd be willing to sit down and follow up with us. He seemed hesitant but that quickly faded away as he excitedly invited us down for a meeting in the morning. I wasn't sure what I had wanted to ask him perse; I supposed that now that we had a little more information, I wanted to get a read on him as I brought them up. But beyond that, I didn't know.

It was a beautiful morning so far; a day like this could help me see the appeal of a place like this, murderous history or not. The main street itself seemed more open and inviting, even if most businesses were closed. A far cry from last night where I expected a monster to slink out of every shadow, Crystal Lake during the day was too banal to be horrifying. Maybe that was part of the mystique.

The sheriff's office was at the end of the road, it was a small single story office building and very non-descript. The seal for the town of Crystal Lake adorned the outer way; it stood out among the drab brown the rest of the building had been covered with. It was more function than form. Two cruisers were parked outside adjacent to one another, we decided to park a spot away off in the corner. I helped grab the camera equipment after we had all piled out, we weren't quite clear on whether they'd let us film the interview or not so we wanted to be prepared, one way or another.

"Check-check" Levi spoke into his shirt and stared earnestly toward Adam back in the van. Adam tapped his headphones and offered a thumbs up. "How's the feed?" Levi had turned to Jeremy who was again buried in his phone.

"Looks good." He replied, holding up his phone for us all to see. I held the door open for them and handed off the camera bag to Levi as he passed. Once inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the most wanted poster on the wall to my right. It was a top 10 from the FBI for the past year, however it was needed updating because two of them were definitely captured within the few months. I remember following one of the arrests vividly. A single officer was stationed behind the counter, she actually paid us no mind—or if she had, I didn't notice. She was writing in a log book casually.]

"Hi." Was as casual as I could manage. She looked up at me with bored eyes, they were blue. She had blonde hair that was tucked under her black cap and her name tag simply said "Williams."

"Yes, how can I help you?" She placed the pen down in the log book; I was actually surprised how nice her tone was considering the near death glare she seemed to wear with relish.

"Yes, hi—uh, again." Christ. "We have a meeting with Sherriff Perkins?" She cocked an eye brow at me and pursed her lips to speak when a voice boomed in from one of the rooms behind her. "Kelce Sampson?"

I tried to gaze over her broad shoulder with little success. "Sheriff Perkins?" I asked over the human wall. The tall and lanky Sherriff glided out from behind the counter, he beamed at the four of us like the proudest dad in the world. He was a bald man in his mid-40's but clearly in shape. His red beard was distinctive and vibrant. He walked over to me and shook my hand heartily. "Ah, we meet again." He said.

"Well we appreciate you coming up to us that first time." Jeremy told him as they shook. "You remember Adam? And Levi?"

He eyed them for a moment before smiling and nodding in the affirmative. "Yes, yes, of course. Come into my office." He held out an outstretched hand and motioned for us to follow.

"Do you mind if we set up the camera in there?" I asked before we got any further. He paused and scrunched his face. "It's pretty cramped in there as is…" He gazed around the office; there were about 6 different sets of desks, and they were all empty. Some, I could see were because no one used them currently, they were dusty and vacant. The others I assumed were all out on patrol. "Here, lets you one of the interview rooms." He walked north past his office and toward a sign marked _CELLS_. He turned right there and into a room labeled _Interrogation._

It was like every police interrogation room you've ever seen in every movie; in every TV show; in every book. The walls were painted a drab green, which were complicated by a bland white table, and a pair on nondescript chairs that were probably designed to be uncomfortable on purpose. Levi shuffled off into a corner and began removing the camera and tripod from the bag. The Sheriff grabbed the chair closest to the door and sat down, I made my way to the other but stopped at what I assumed was a two-way mirror. I felt I looked okay, all things considered. TV presentable at least. I sat down and reached for my note pad; all three of us went through our usual motions. Adam mic'd up the Sherriff, I jotted in my notebook, Levi did camera stuff.

"How are you liking our town?"

I smiled with my head down and tapped my pen against the pad. "Oh, it's been lovely. Everyone has been so nice."

"That's what we pride ourselves on here. Our kindness to others." This guy. I smirked back at him before I said, "I ah don't think Ed Wilson got the memo."

He grimaced. "That's curmudgeon? Ed Wilson hasn't met a beautiful day he doesn't hate." He said with a chuckle.

"Funny, I had a similar thought." And we both laughed, humor was an important tool when it came to interviews. Helped build a rapport with the subject. I glanced up at Levi who nodded at me indicating he was ready to go. Adam did the same.

"Alright, I'm with the Sheriff Robert Perkins of Crystal Lake here in Cunningham County. How are you doing today, Sheriff?"

"It's a beautiful day in town so I'm having a wonderful day."

"That's great. So as you know we're trying to shine a light on the 2 killing sprees committed here in Crystal Lake back in the 80s."

"Yes, terrible tragedies all"

"While here we've learned that this town hasn't been a stranger to other terrible tragedies since then."

He stiffened slightly, very subtle. "All towns have their trying times, sadly."

"The Shephard family disappears in 87, a yacht filled with the senior class sinks in 89. Since then more people have gone missing in this area of than other areas within the same timeframe—"

"Now hang on a second, what do any of those have to do with the two sprees?"

"They're connected in that bad stuff keeps happening to Crystal Lake."

"Bad stuff happens everywhere. I feel like you're trying to exploit the good people of my town."

"Why was the sinking never followed up on?"

"Of course it was followed up on. We never found any bodies."

"Why wasn't it reported on?"

He held up his hands, "I can't say why the media does or doesn't follow something."

"And no official report or cause for the accident?"

"It was a different time." I stared at him for a moment, silently fuming. I didn't believe a word he had said; he was being shifty but in a subtle way and what galled me the most was I couldn't understand why. The way I figured, there were a few options here: Option A, there's some kind of super murderer out there and the police is or is not cool with it and covers it up; option B, a series of bad things happened in Crystal Lake and the police both doesn't care and is fairly incompetent. When put in those terms, option B doesn't seem so ridiculous or incredulous. But still, his behavior just reeked of option A and that was what hurt my brain.

He cocked an eyebrow in a smarmy way while he uttered, "You're not trying to bring in that whole Jason Voorhees thing into your little program, are you?"

I looked over past his left shoulder while I considered my next words, nodding my head incredulously. Levi just stared into the view finder, I couldn't tell if he had noticed the same thing I had. I suppose I was looking for moral support. Finally, "Well, we did receive an anonymous tip about it; we'd have to at least mention it."

He chuckled. "Is it the one about finding him ashore on the other side of the lake?" I was stunned and tried not to show it. "Let me save you guys the trouble, you're anonymous source? It's Dan Hollister, he's been peddling that story for decades! No one's ever bought, until now I guess." He said that last part lower, with a sarcastic edge to it.

"I appreciate you telling us that; we've been looking to either corroborate or refute his story so knowing his name should help us do that." I clasped my hands in front on me on the table. "I'd think that you of all people would appreciate that, being a cop and all."

He sniffed exaggeratedly, "Right. Is there anything else I can answer for you?"

"No I think we're done here." I looked at Jeremy and he nodded at me in agreement. Sheriff Perkins stood up and looked at all three of us. "You all planning on going up to the lake?"

Deadpanned I looked at him and simply said, "If we have time; we might not."

"Good. I'd advise against it."

"Why Sherriff? Something you don't want us to find up there?"

He exhaled slowly as he put on his hat, shaking his head. "Nope. It's just dangerous out there for people who don't know the area" He said as he headed for the door; as it slowly closed behind him he offered one last platitude, "You take care now." Once he was gone we all just sat there, the silence speaking volumes for how dumbfounded we all felt at that moment. Adam was the first to speak ok up: "Okay that guy gave you shifty vibes too, right?"

"Totally shifty." Levi responded, nodding.

"Okay, admittedly he was a little sketch." Jeremy piped in, holding up his hands. "But like what are we saying he covered up here? Honestly it just sounds like he doesn't give a shit, which is arguable worse." Silence again as I just sat there mulling over what I wanted to do next. Levi and Adam began packing things up while Jeremy sidled up to me and leaned close. "Whatcha thinking?"

"Maybe I'm just staring out into space."

"Nah I know that look, spill it."  
I leaned in closer. "Has the guy responded to the email?"

Jeremy paused to quickly check. "No."

"Write to him, ask him if he's Dan Hollister."

"I like it." Jeremy got to work quickly crafting the email. A few moments passed with me furiously writing into my notepad. It was a holdover from college, it helped me think. I wrote in big letters "Could we prove Jason was found?" and circled it four or five times. Jeremy's phone chimed indicating he had a new email. "Bingo." He leaned forward to show me the screen.

 _When can you meet?_

"Well," I said. "Perkins was right about that at least."

"Yeah." A beat. "What do you want to do?"

"Fucking meet him of course." I aid with a cocked eyebrow. "Listen, this whole second set of massacre's thing and the shit with Tommy Jarvis seems wholly separate from this. Like I don't buy that the man who did that wasn't actually Jason Voorhees…"

"Right."

"…but I can't shake the feeling that Jason was actually found the day after Camp Blood, like at all."

"Yeah I'm starting to think so too. It'd change the whole narrative of the crime."

"Right! And if that motherfucker is covering anything up? _It's that._ "

 _ **9.**_

 _ **The Body Count Continues**_

 _Friday, August 13_ _th_ _1985_

When Ginny Field and Paul Holt first started working on reopening the summer camp, they had good intentions. After everything that had happened 5 years ago, they thought that turning a site of tragedy into a site of hope would be a good thing for the town. They went through all the proper channels-Sherriff Garris was surprisingly supportive-had hired on a staff a staff of 4 other bodies from town who also believed in the project. Sandra was a local who had actually narrowly avoided becoming another tally for Mrs. Voorhees; five years ago she was hired on to the staff when an unexpected staph infection kept her sidelined that entire summer. She would often tell that story to anyone who would listen, mockingly referring to herself as "The luckiest lady alive."

Mark was a big local sports star fresh off the life changing car accident that left him without the use of his legs. He was a good guy who loved kids and Paul thought he would be very inspirational to the incoming group. Ted was an old townie known for his sarcastic demeanor and occasional terrible joke. Ginny found him fascinating looking; like a ginger Abraham Lincoln she once told Paul. Terry was fresh out of high school, forced into a job she didn't want by her rich parents, they told it helped build character. Who needs to build character when you can just buy it? That's how she felt about it anyway. She actually hated it here in town but put on a fake smile everyday just so she wouldn't be fired. He just needed to last another few weeks, then she'd be free.

They spent the majority of the summer remodeling the camp grounds themselves, but the dark cloud that hovered over Crystal Lake since 1980 remained in effect. Paul had even tried to lighten to the mood by telling a campfire story he had heard not long after about Pamela Voorhees and her dead son; how he returned from the dead in time to see his mother beheaded.

Ginny found it so corny, as did the rest of them, but they appreciated the effort. As both the summer and all the work died down, Ginny and Paul had decided to go down to the local bar and give their employees and respite from their slave master ways. Paul was a tall golden god with blonde locks that swayed everywhere when he walked; he had majored in sports medicine but always had a passion for being an "outdoorsman". It did not surprise Ginny that he was so gung-ho about this endeavor. Ginny herself had gone to college to study child psychology so she more looked forward to the day they'd have real life campers in tow, rather than all this heavy lifting hammering; and general construction work. She was not cut out for it but she did her best which Paul appreciated.

They'd been engaged for the last five year and with most of their savings sunk into this place they probably weren't getting married anytime soon. She wished Paul would understand she was fine with a small wedding with a small guest list; the important part was marrying him. He said he got it but he wouldn't allow himself to really get it. He wanted her to have the big wedding she had always talked about but to her dreams are just that: dreams. After a few drinks they headed back up to Crystal Lake; a cavalcade of police cars with lights and sirens blew past them. They were concerned but since they were going in the opposite direction they figured it had little to do with them.

The entre campgrounds were dark when they got back; not that they expected to find a raucous party when they got back—they secretly hoped they would—but complete silence was 100 percent unexpected. After parking they headed up to the main lodge; they had repurposed the old main cabin and had turned it into a two story lodge for everyone to hang out in, camper and counselor alike. Paul tried the light switch, nothing.

"What the hell is going on?" He said. "Sandra? Ted? Mark?"

"Terry?" Ginny joined in, panic creeping in she went over to the phone on the wall by the main stairs. She held it up to hear and was met by complete silence on the other end. "Paul? Lines dead."

"Jesus Christ, can anything go right?"

"What about the one in your office? Isn't that on another grid?"

"Yeah it is, come on." Paul took Ginny by the hand, leading her around the main stairs and to a room just behind it. Formerly a bedroom, it now housed a pair of old wood desks, one for each of them, and a few filing cabinets. Paul's desk had paper strewn all over it while Ginny's was fairly neat. At this moment, however, it was pitch black. The only illumination coming from moonlight that entered in from the center window. Paul fumbled in the darkness while Ginny had pressed her back against the wall, she hated the dark. Stemming from a cruel childhood prank where she was left alone in a basement and told her parents wouldn't want her any more. It seems silly in hindsight but a child's brain is often so fragile.

Off in the corner on the other end something caught Ginny's eye. It was a figure shrouded in shadow, it seemed to materialize out of the inky blackness but more likely it was just crouching. "…Paul?" This large… _mass_ approached Paul from behind. Ginny shouted: "PAUL THERE'S SOMEONE IN THIS FUCKING ROOM!" But it was too late, it was all over him. In the darkness they wrestled to the floor, Ginny couldn't tell what was going on or who was winning, the only answers she received were grunts and the clattering of knocked over possessions. She tried to make out the mass but all she could make out was that it was huge and worse some sort of cloth mask but even that she couldn't be sure of.

The winner quickly became clear when Paul gasped just as the sound of meat being pierced reached her ears. With blood filling up in his mouth Paul screamed "Ginny…run!" And she did. Somehow all the darkness didn't matter as she flung the office door open and escaped out into the moonlit night. The mass made sure to finish Paul off, stabbing him 5 more times before tossing him out the center window for good measure. Wasting no time, it stomped off after Ginny.

It stalked her for hours. She had managed to avoid it by staying hidden under a bed in one of the unfinished cabins. She trembled in fear as she heard it frantically tearing apart the other cabins in search of her. She felt like she had to move, it would only be a matter of time before it came here next, but she was completely frozen. With a loud crash, the door to the cabin was suddenly kicked open. Heavy footfalls had her digging small grooves into the wood floor with her hands. She couldn't think, all she could do was shut her eyes and pray he just went away. Suddenly she felt very cold, and wet. She had begun to pee herself; she cried silently and gritted her teeth; hopeful that it didn't notice.

 _CHUNK._

A pitchfork had pierced the floor above her, striking the floor a mere inches from her face. Ginny let out a tremendous scream and hopped up, knocking over both the bed and her attacker. She scrambled for the door and escaped once again into the night. The mass eventually recovered and attempted to make chase; but lights off in the distance caught its eye. It moved toward them with a purpose now, no longer concerned with tracking its fleeing prey.

Ginny would eventually find a lone patrol car and relayed her harrowing escape from what seemed like what would be certain death. As she had relayed the tale it sounded ridiculous escaping from her mouth so it was little wonder to her that the officer did not appear to take her seriously. Word of what ultimately went down that weekend nearly broke Ginny in its aftermath. She would be a recluse for the remainder of her life but not in the way one would think. She just continued living her life, in the best way she could just like everyone else. He didn't seek out reporters or do any interviews; knowing she was a survivor is what would propel her through her darkest moments, reveling in them made them worst. It was that simple for her.

 _ **10.**_

We found ourselves with a dilemma. Dan Hollister was willing to meet with us at 1pm; at 12 we were supposed to talk to and pick up Tracy, after which she would bring us to her father Tommy. Dan had been adamant we meet him then, at his house no less, and while Tracy seemed amendable with us, I wasn't keen on taking the chance that she actually wasn't. We had been sitting in silence in the van eating hastily procured McDonalds about a mile outside of town. We weren't keen on trying the local diner after all the garbage Tracy spoke about it last night. I shuddered thinking about the cockroach story. I really hated McDonalds but beggars couldn't be choosers so I was munching on one of their 'Signature' sandwiches, their ridiculous attempt to be classy as a way to stave off irrelevance. Why couldn't they just embrace that they're shitty fast food? Just burgers and fries, enough with the fancy bunned burgers that taste just alright.

Yes I admit, I didn't hate it.

"We should just bring her with us." Adam said. With a mouthful of Angus beef I stared at him, such a simple solution and not a single genius here even thought of it.

"You're brilliant." I said while chunks of food flew out of my mouth.

"She might not go for that."

"Why not?" I wiped my mouth just to feel like less of a savage.

"Well, I don't know, just from chatting with her I get the feeling the whole J thing is touchy."

"Is that why she hardly speaks to him."

He shrugged, "I mean, it seems that way."

I stuffed another bite in my mouth, thinking. "Can't hurt to try though?"

"Way I see it-"Levi began. "-we don't have much of a choice. I mean it sounds like we're definitely going to talk to this dude right?

Both I and Jeremy nodded silently. "We got to at least give her the chance to want to go with us." I said to Jeremy. He mulled it over with half a breakfast burrito in his mouth. He shoved the rest down his mouth and nodded his head. "Alright, let's start heading out there." He turned the engine though and the old battle van roared.

"How far out is she?"

"Bout 5 miles or so."

I turned back in my chair, "Levi you should get the camera out, you might get some good footage of the lake."

"Are we stopping?" He asked. "It could look like shit from a moving car."

"You always say that and it always ends up looking hella artistic." I reminded him.

He crumpled hi wrapper and playfully tossed it at me. "Fair enough." He began to get the camera ready to film. Jeremy pulled out away from the rest stop and hit the gas to cross the highway. It was dead traffic wise but Jeremy was always that kind of driver, being safe rather than sorry. I gave him shit about it anytime we were stuck at a turning lane and he had all the time in the world but he just didn't trust the acceleration of any care much less this piece of shit. "Listen, that's how my mom got into an accident." He'd tell me. "Hit by someone who thought they could make it, I'd rather not have broken legs thanks.

The sun was high in the sky as 2we passed a road sign letting us know that Crystal Lake was the next exit. According to the directions on google maps we have to drive away from the town proper for a mile or two before taking a sharp right down a dirt road. I really wasn't looking forward to that so I decided to get to work writing. I often scripted much of what was said on the shows myself; it was collaborative only in the sense that I'd share it with Jeremy when I was done and ask for feedback. A part of me was excited at the prospect of potentially changing the narrative of the entire ordeal. Finding out her son wasn't actually dead, the entire reason she lost her mind, was such a non-trivial thing I tried really hard not to get too excited at the possibility. I figured that, even if this man was actually credible, we couldn't prove it. Still, it was better than nothing.

I looked up from my pad to notice we were approaching the dirt road; I silently thanked god we were doing this during the day. The only visible landmark that let us know it was there was a crooked mile marker, Jeffrey for sure would have missed it. What a disaster that would have been; I began to play out the scenario in my mind and almost burst out laughing at the thought. Jeremy noticed it out of his peripheral vision but thank fully he just gave me a look. I wanted him to concentrate on the road more than anything. Nature looked to be in the middle of a long campaign to take back this road but I assume Tracy's old car kept on fighting the good fight to keep it at bay. Looking out the window I was reminded how much I loved this time of year.

The leaves were in mid transition, but enough green still remained to give the entire area a nice vibrant feeling. It was disarming, because these woods were home to so much death but you could never tell. Weather due to time or because of the beauty it possessed in a vacuum was hard for me to say. I imagined it was a bit of both, plus bad things happened in beautiful places all the time. It's probably what drew me to true crime the most; that shattering of beauty a truly horrible crime in capable of. I stopped short of thinking it was poetic; I felt pretentious enough as it was and it was barely noon. The sound of rocks and dirt crunching beneath our tires was nearly hypnotic; I think I could listen to this anytime. It reminded me of those ASMR videos you find on you tube, where it's all thunderstorms and rain clouds. If I could I'd make one where it's just rocks being driven over, hell it probably exists already. I go to check and see I have no signal. I decided to just assume it existed and left it alone.

"Are we close?" Jeremy said to me.

"Uh…" I looked down on my phone. "GPS signal lost."

He shook his head. "Perfect."

"Well if we see a lake we know we're close."

"Oh yeah, hopefully we're not in the lake or anything." He said with an eye roll.

I noticed a marker up ahead and pointed it out. "2-5-5-6, that's it. We'd make a left there; says its half a mile on the right. We drove just under 30, each of us peering around half expecting a house appear somewhere over the horizon. Eventually I spotted it coming up on our right, a mobile home. A vintage one at that. I recognized that it was a 1957 Cana Manana trailer; how I knew that came courtesy of my grandfather. He had one he kept in pristine condition, I remember going through it when it came time to sell the thing off once he passed on. A part of me was somewhat excited to check this thing out, it seemed in really good condition to be honest. Its thin frame stretched out to a patch of trees, Tracy's old junker hung out behind that, wistful for better days.

Her screen door came open as we pulled up, she gave us a wave as we all piled out. She was clad in a big green sweater and black jeans, I was really jealous of that sweater as I too had a love of sweaters that can double as a dress myself. Immediately following her out was a medium sized German Shephard and I almost melted. It had a beautiful black coat punctuated with brown markings around its ears, nose and feet; a tuft of white fur jutted out from its chest. It ran up to Tracy let off a stream of obscenity but the dog was too amped up; it darted directly to Adam. Adam suddenly perked up and got on one knee, allowing the dog to crash into him. He laughed, "Hello doggo!"

Tracy ran up to them both shouting, "God damn it Gordon, down!" Immediately the German sat down and stared at the group, its hanging tongue flowing from left to right and every-which-way. "She's well behaved I swear."

"Your lady dog is named Gordon?" I asked.

"My dad named her, I kind of like it."

"Oh yeah, totally, so do I." I bent down to pet Gordon but looked up toward Tracy first, "May I?" She nodded in the affirmative and I went in for some ear scritches. "She's beautiful." I remarked. Tracy smiled and led Gordon back toward the trailer. She commanded her to sit, which she did before again ordering her to stay. Time would tell on that one. She brushed hair from her face and leaned up against her weathered picnic table.

"Welcome to casa Jarvis." She said with a hint of sarcasm.

"My grandpa had a trailer just like it, I love it honestly." I said. Adam walked around it, soaking it all in.

"I've dreamed of living in one of these." He finally said.

"That so bud?" Levi asked.

"Yeah man, closest I ever came was the bad summer I slept in a van."

"Bad summer, huh?" Tracy asked.

"We don't talk about the bad summer." Adam replied. We all had a laugh at that. None of us knew what the so-called bad summer was, except that it was epic in its badness. Correction, I think he may had told Levi once over a drink or 50; I wasn't sure. Knowing Adam as I did, it was probably woman related. I remember meeting Adam for the first time 3 years ago. He was a new intern, but he wasn't straight out of college. He apparently knew the CEO of our little company, one of those 20 something wunderkinds that Silicon Valley just can't get enough of. The way I understood it was that they went to high school together, and had even formed a punk band together once upon a time. They kept in touch, even with the difference in lifestyles and what have you. When Adam needed a job, the guy offered him one.

Normally, that type of thing would lead to resentment around offices. Nobody really likes nepotism, and Adam knew that. The thing was, Adam knew what he was doing. He was a damn good sound guy and it wasn't long until I was requesting him specifically. I supposed that was just a fact of life, maybe. That no one cares how you got the job, as long as you're really good at it. Yeah, in a perfect world.

"So Tracy, we were wondering if you'd be willing to come back into town with us real quick. A little detour."

She eyed me suspiciously after I spoke. "Oh? What's up?"

"Okay well we've sort of had this anonymous contact here in town, he had given us a lead to pursue at a time when we were just starting our preliminary research."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah and, well, we had no idea who he was until this morning, he's agreed to meet with us but it had to be at 1."

"Ah." She nodded. "I see the pickle you are in."

"Yeah and we'd like to either prove he's credible or prove he's not-know what I mean?"

She folded her arms and squinted one eye at me; she leaned in slightly. "And what sort of information does this fella have?"

"Well…"

"It's about Jason Voorhees." Jeremy said.

"I see."

"He claims that Jason didn't drown. That he personally found the kid the next morning, washed ashore." I said.

She cocked an eyebrow. "That's pretty big, if true."

" _If_ true, yeah."

She stood there silently for a while, mulling something over. I couldn't get a read on her at the moment. She seemed conflicted; like on one hand she wanted to know more but on the other she was scared about what she might find out. I was probably projecting.

"Okay." She finally said. "I'll come with you."

Tracy sat cross legged in the back of the van, Adam and Levi were wedged up against each other on the other side; out of necessity as the back end of the van was grated off for other, bigger, equipment. It quickly became uncomfortable with all the bumps the vehicle was unable to avoid, so she hugged her knees closer to her chest in a vain attempt to stretch the cramp out. Tracy made sure to insist Gordon had come and the group all seemed excited by the possibility. These people were so nice, she thought to herself. She found herself growing more comfortable around them. Adam was rocking his head to whatever silent tune invaded his headspace; he smiled when he saw her notice. She felt no small amount a jitters over this trip. Years of her father insisting he knew who had attacked his family had etched the name Jason Voorhees into her sub conscious. She would inadvertently perk up at the mention, curiosity constantly getting the best of her.

Someone claiming for a fact the boy hadn't drowned set off all kinds of bullshit meters for her, but she could understand the interest in hearing it out. Hopefully it rang true for this group here as well she thought. She started mentally playing out the conversation she was going to have with her father later; she practically rehearsed it every minute since last night. She knew not a single aspect of it is going to go how she pictured it but she went through the motions anyway. The addition of possibly talking about Jason muddied the waters; she imagined it would become the topic du jour, all other things be damned. Would that further drive her away? Trigger some rebellious streak in her? She couldn't know, and maybe that was a problem itself.

They had said they needed to go back into town but that turned out to be a bit of a misnomer. To Tracy "town" was basically the main street. That sad collection of stores and bad memories; including her job. This Dan Hollister person was about a mile south of that, maybe two. Opposite direction of her own place, basically. She asked to look at what google maps is showing them and it confirmed one of her worries. She offered to be the navigator of the trip, "At least I get to do something instead of just or stand there." Is what she told them, which was partially true. One tried not to get lost in Crystal Lake; weather you were superstitious or not. "Okay so, um, you basically want to go back down this road-the one you came on and you're going to turn right. Like, basically, the opposite of how you got here." She was met with silence.

"…how about you point it out as I get closer?" Jeremy asked.

"Yeah, alright." She replied with a grin.

Jeremy quickly began the task of guiding this tug boat backward and out. The turn radius on the van seemed as wide as a basketball court as it hobbled and rolled backward gingerly. Jeremy seemed to exert way more force than he probably had needed to turn the wheel, but Tracy figured he had no power steering as it was a 98 dodge ram. The van finally lurched forward and managed to just narrowly miss the tree up ahead as it straightened out onto the dirt road. Leaves and rocks munched under the tires as is sought out traction, eventually finding some with a jolt.

Gordon whined a bit as the car grunted forward, Tracy pursed her lips and patted her dog's ears. Gordon closed her eyes, content and safe. Adam asked, "How long have you had her?"

"About 10 years? She's becoming an old lady, aren't you girl?" Gordon's ears perked up but then fell in disinterest.

"And your dad named her Gordon?"

Tracy laughed, "Yeah!" She shook her head, suddenly remembering the day her dad brought the little pup home. She had almost drowned in puppy slobber the kisses were so plentiful. "When he was a kid he had a dog named Gordon, I guess he wanted to honor him, y'know?"

"You must've been confused!"

"Oh totally." She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I pouted and was like 'Gordon is a girls name!'" She folded her arms in a pantomime of her recollection before laughing. She still had a lot of good memories, she couldn't escaped that. She did miss him, she knew that. The moment of brevity lived up to its title, as a darker memory washed over her. "Jason killed him." She said flatly.

"Excuse me, Jason?" Adam asked.

She waved it off. "Sorry, that's how my dad always put it." She sucked her teeth and nodded slowly. "Yep, it killed the dog."

"Wait so, he had Gordon 1.0 when he was 10? When _it_ happened?" Tracy nodded exaggeratedly in the affirmative. She sat silent for a moment, annoyed that a fun time had to get ruined by something bad. Felt like the story of her life. She gazed down at Gordon and felt a nice warmth in her heart. Gordon was good at that. She scratched her ears earnestly. "Well at least it didn't make me hate this mutt, having such tragedy tied to your freakin' dog! I was 10 myself, Christ!" She laughed again.

"So was it always, like, a constant thing around the house?"

"What? You can say Jason; I heard that name so many times he was practically a family member." She sighed heavily. "But yes, to answer your question. Oh he tried to not, but it's basically who he is. It defined him."

"Well, at least you turned out okay eh?" Adam almost said with a straight face but snorted at the end.

"Jury's still out there." They both laughed. The conversation made the entire ride over fly by so fast. Tracy would only interrupt to point out a direction to go in, or to warn about some road condition they would come across. Mostly the entire trip was uneventful; Kelsey wrote in her notepad, looking somewhat hurried each time; Jeremy seemed to grip the wheel with a white knuckle intensity, Tracy wondered if he was perhaps not a great driver under normal circumstances; Levi meanwhile would occasionally chime in with what Tracy thought that he thought was folksy wisdom but sounded jumbled coming out of his mouth. She scrubbed each instance as soon as it was uttered, the guy seemed nice enough but something about his manner rubbed her the wrong way.

Finally they began to slow as the van neared the final turn off onto yet another dirt road. The vehicle seemed to groan in anticipation, no fan of the terrain either. Tracy comforted Gordon with each bump but thankfully it was brief as a large home came into view. It was colonial style, fairly large. It wasn't well maintained but Tracy shuddered at the thought of actually being able to take care of a place this big. A thin man with graying black hair sat on the porch swing gazing at us as we pulled in. The porch itself wrapped around the front of the house; blue paint chipped and peeling into tiny piles here and there. We navigated around the two cars parked out in front; one with its hood up and engine clearly missing; the other up on cinderblocks, rusted and weathered. The car with no wheels was a mystery to Tracy but she was fairly certain the second was a 68' Monte Carlo. That vehicle was big around here; Crystal Lake probably had the highest amount of Monte Carlo junkers per capita within the tristate area.

The man stood and began to amiably stroll in the vans direction when they finally stopped. Jeremy killed the engine and turned toward Kelsey, "Moment of truth." Was all he said. Kelce smirked and opened her door as Adam and the rest unfolded from the back through the sliding door. Tracy let Gordon walk a few steps away from the group so she could use the bathroom; Kelce walked up to the skinny man, arm outstretched to shake. "Dan Hollister?" the man took her hand and shook it warmly. He nodded in the affirmative while Kelsey said, "I'm Kelsey Sampson, and over there coming out of driver's side is Jeremy Harris."

The man squinted and walked over to Jeremy, he offered his hand which was accepted gladly. "Good to finally put a face to the name." Dan said.

"Likewise." Offered Jeremy.

Dan looked the group over; Tracy gave a small wave followed by each of the others. "I'm sure I'll get introduced in due time, come inside." Tracy noted he had a warm smile and whistled for Gordon to follow. "Is she good?" Dan asked. "I've got a big grump son of a bitch out there, he's not in love with the excitement a younger dog can bring." He grinned.

"She's very well behaved, he won't be bothered." Tracy reassured him. He seemed satisfied with that and gave a small little nod. He led the quintet through a battered screen door and they found themselves in the entryway. Ahead and to the right were a set of stairs leading to the second floor. It looked to be very ornate and fancy once upon a time, but that time was long passed. On the left was an entryway to what looked like a living room; flower printed furniture made up the seating area, it was actually appeared to be the best kept room in the house, relative to its surroundings. While the main hallway had chipped paint and weathered furniture, the living room by contrast had near pristine wallpaper and well maintained sofas and chairs. Straight ahead was the rest of the house, another entryway visible, likely leading to the kitchen.

Dan led us to the living room where a pitcher and lemonade sat on the coffee table. Tracy took the first open couch seat, instructing Gordon to lie down by her feet. Kelce took the next available one but on the other side, she turned slightly to face the cushioned chair that Dan had plopped into. "Is it alright if we set up the camera in here?" Kelce asked.

"Well first I gotta know how you all found out about me."

"Well," She began. "Sherriff Perkins told us. He took great delight in it actually."

Dan swore under his breath. "Excuse my language. I'm not surprised he'd do that." He shook his head ruefully.

Kelce assured him, "Listen if you don't want your ID out there we can easily shadow you."

He nodded. "Sure, but can you stop Perkins from running his mouth?"

Kelce paused before eventually shaking her head. "I'm afraid not." She finally replied.

"No this is fine. I'll put my name out there…" He thought for a moment. "Screw him, he's been disparaging me for years to people around here."

Kelsey smiled and leaned forward touching his knee. "Believe me, I have many-many-questions but I'd like to wait for the camera to be set up. That okay?"

He shrugged. "Sure, sure. Fine by me." He nodded toward the pitcher on the table. "You all feel free to help yourselves, okay?" Tracy wasted no time, she poured a glass for herself. She loved Lemonade, so did Gordon whose ears perked up in anticipation. Tracey caught herself before lowering the glass toward the dog, feeling an acute sense of embarrassment over the rest seeing her share a glass with a dog. Dan slowly sipped out of his own glass while Levi and Jeremy discussed how to frame him in hushed tones. Tracy thought she heard the term 'shit lighting' but quickly dismissed it, not actually caring about what they were talking about. Instead she studied Dan, trying to put a finger on whether or not her father had mentioned him before.

"You're Jarvis' little girl, right?" He said as he took a sip. Tracey nearly spit up what she had swallowed in surprise; she found herself coughing uncontrollably.

"Ack-I'm-"She tried to get out, coughing loudly once more. "I'm sorry." She placed the glass down on the table and eye Dan quizzically. "You know my dad?"

He nodded. "We'd spoken a few time." He took another small sip of lemonade, the ice cubes clinking around in the glass. "I always told him I believed him." Kelce watched them both as they spoke, eyebrow cocked. Silently she motioned to Levi and Jeremy; Levi pivoted the camera toward the two, as easily as someone put on pants. Neither noticed.

"Honestly?" Tracy began. "I thought your name sounded familiar. He must have mentioned you; he latched on to people who believed him."

Dan grunted and took another sip. "I can relate…" He finally said in a low tone.

Jeremy gave me the go ahead and I turned back to face Dan; he was finally done drinking the lemonade and just tapped his fingers on the arm rest. "Okay." I said. "Think of this as just a conversation, don't feel like you need to be nervous or anything."

He nodded. "Alright..."

"Okay, so, this is Kelsey Sampson I'm sitting here with Dan Hollister, a longtime resident of Crystal Lake. Is that right?"

"Yes, almost 30 years."

"That's amazing. And you are a former officer in the Crystal Lake PD?"

"Yup, retired for the last 15."

"What was the job like?"

He paused for a second and smiled. "Oh it was pretty easy for the most part. The people are friendly here; the worst thing you regularly dealt with was drunken disorderly, domestic spats, things of that nature."

"Until 1980."

"Uh, right, yeah. Until that shit happened." He shook his head. "But let me tell you, even those were aberrations really. We were definitely out of our depth there. Both times."

"What can you tell us about that time? Let's start with the Mrs. Voorhees killings."

"Well-"He thought for a moment. "I was pretty new to the force then, maybe a year or 2 on the job? It's hard to keep track these days." He chuckled to himself before he continued. "I wasn't first on the scene but our radios lit up as word spread about what had happened. I was mostly part of the search for her son, although I was called up there eventually to help with moving the bodies."

"What was that like?" I asked.

"Well, it wasn't that shocking really. I was fresh out of the military so I'd already seen some shit—um, can I curse?"

It was a little late to ask but I just smiled. "Don't worry about it."

He coughed. "Yeah, anyway, it was gruesome for sure but I'd seen worse."

"Still, these were regular teenagers."

"Sure, yeah-it's different. Plus when it happens at home it seems worse, right?" I nodded and he continued. "I think the worse was the one who had an arrow through their neck; there was an awful lot of blood."

"Did you see Mrs. Voorhees?"

"Christ, talk about a lot of blood."

"So you did?"

"Well if I can be a little graphic—I had to find her head."

"I see."

"It had rolled away some place and the buys couldn't find it. I joined in and it had mostly submerged at the shore. The dummies didn't think to check that, can you believe it?"

I could actually. "Okay so you helped with some of the clean-up, what happened then?"

"Um, well I had a nagging feeling about the boy."

"What boy?"

"The boy, Jason."

"Ah. Right."

We hadn't really searched the lake too much, just y'know some preliminary stuff." He paused and poured himself another glass of lemonade slowly, almost deliberate. I watched as the foggy liquid filled the glass, eroding the rest of the paltry cubes that had remained behind. He took a long satisfactory gulp before he continued. "We were waiting on divers to come in, but with what ended up happening I was certain that wasn't going to get done anytime soon."

"Just too hectic?"

"At the very least." He replied with a nod. "So the next day I took a little walk around the lake on my own."

"Why alone?"

"Well everyone else was run so ragged. We were bombarded with calls; people who had info about Pamela and wanted to tell us how crazy they all thought she was anyway."

"Jeez."

"Tell me about it. And then all the god damn press, it was a mad house. So I got out of there before some dick assigned me to something asinine. In my mind, I was still assigned to find the kid."

"I get that. I assume you're speaking about Sherriff Perkins?"

He nodded. "You assume right." He replied with a soft chuckle. He took another long gulp, this time finishing off the drink. I found myself suddenly very thirsty; I decided to help myself. "It's really good." He said as an aside. I smiled and poured myself a big glass. He continued, "So I was basically walking the perimeter of the lake itself. I was on the other side, pretty far out from the camp grounds, when I saw him."

"Jason?"

"Yup. He just lie there, his clothes clinging to him still damp. No telling how long he was there but it had to be probably hours now at this point."

"It wasn't like he just washed up there."

"Right, exactly. I'm sure the crazies think that, like a response to his mother's death or some crap." He shook his head.

"Okay-"I began. "-just so I, and our viewers, can understand: you went out the day after the Camp Blood massacre, walked the lake perimeter and found him washed ashore? Is that what you contend?"

He nodded his head emphatically. "As god as my witness."

"Do you have anything that can corroborate this? Anything at all?" I asked, probably knowing the answer. What proof could he have? To his credit, Dan lowered his head and gave it some thought.

"Well," He finally said after a moment. "I took a lot of notes in my career, helpful y'know? I still have them all and I'm certain I wrote something down."

I perked up a bit; contemporaneous notes, while not proof, went a long way. "We'd certainly appreciate it if you could find them for us. We're certainly willing to help you search?" I looked around as I said this and saw the crew nodding in agreement.

"Right now?"

I shook my head. "No, let's table that for the moment." I thought about my next question. "Did you tell this to anyone at all?"

"That I found him? I told the sheriff of course, did it over the radio while I had the kid in my squad car. Rather than wait for an ambulance or what have you, I took the kid myself to the hospital."

"Did he say anything?"

"Not a word; although I may have been talking enough for the both of us."

"What did you talk about?"

He considered for a moment. "About the search for him, things like that. I remember my heart sinking because I let slip that his mother was probably worried sick…it was automatic, it was just something we said, you understand."

"Sure. Have you told anyone else, I mean in the decades that followed. Your name doesn't pop up in connection to this case, at all."

"I have, usually anonymous. Like I tried with you."

"Sheriff Perkins said-and I'm quoting here-'That guy has been peddling that story for years.' What do you say to that?" His face got a shade redder and he grimaced. He struggled for a moment to contain the rage, but just for a moment. It was gone as soon as it came, he spoke next clearly and succinctly.

"Let me tell you something about Perkins…" He began. "…only two people know about me finding the boy; I'm obviously one and he was the other. When the boy-"He made 'air-quotes' with his fingers. "-disappeared again, he destroyed the record. Not me, I don't have that kind of power. He wasn't the sheriff those days, more like a fucking glorified errand boy but he was in tight with our bosses. I doubt he told anyone else because Garris wouldn't have put up with that shit." He lowered his head in thought and shook his head. "Bottom line is: I'm the only one who could implicate him, so he impeaches my credibility instead."

I nodded alone in thought, it was certainly a plausible story I'll give that much. "Why did you quote disappeared? What aren't you telling us?"

He made a face and waved that off. "No-I don't actually know anything." He shrugged. "Was just damn convenient is all. But I'm not accusing him of anything, y'hear?" He jabbed a dirty finger in my direction, so I nodded my head quickly; felt just a bit uncomfortable in here all of a sudden. He clearly hated Sheriff Perkins but the man probably scared him too.

"Of course, understood." I finally said. This seemed to snap him out of something, because he looked at his out stretched finger and lowered it sheepishly. He leaned back in his chair and attempted to take another sip from his cup; it took the ice colliding limply with his lips before he realized.

"I have my own theory, anyhow." He said.

"About what happened to Jason?" I asked, he nodded slowly.

"I was there when Perkins informed the boy, about his mother." He cleared his throat. "He didn't really react. He wasn't looking at us actually; he just kind of…stared at the floor. But his body language never changed. He was pretty tall for his age; didn't realize it until I had to walk him into the precinct. His head had this weird shape too; like something went wrong during birth-ah-"He grimaced again. "-who am I to say, right? Anyway, he kind of creeped me out, did that to a lot of folk actually."

"So he was well known in town?" I asked.

"More like he was spoken of, usually in hushed tones." He replied. "I'm sure it weighed a toll on Pamela, I'm sure she could hear it all. It's no wonder she snapped." I was nodding along again. "Anyways, I think that after we told him-once he was alone for a moment-he went out there into the night alone. Hell he might have gone back to their house by the lake. I can only imagine how devoted he must have been to her; she all but sheltered him."

I perked up a bit. "They had a home near the lake?" He nodded in the affirmative. "Is it still there?"

He thought for a moment. "It wasn't very big, barely a shack if I had to describe it." He thought some more. "If it's still there it's probably barely standing."

"Way I heard it was that the town raised it after the massacre." Tracy chimed in. She had stopped petting Gordon and it looked up at her plaintively.

Dan nodded at her. "I heard the same thing, never cared enough to check."

An idea struck me at that moment, it must have been clear on my face because Dan turned to me, a serious look creeping across his features. "I wouldn't do that lady, those woods are dangerous. People go missing from there way too often."

I stared at him and asked plainly, "Do you actually believe Jason Voorhees is still out there?"

He leaned forward in thought, clinked the remaining cube around in his glass. "I wouldn't go that far." He hunched his shoulders up slightly. "I believed he was out there after 85, for a while. I doubt he still would be, at this point." He got up slowly, stretching out his lean frame before he placed the glass down on the table. He looked at me again; serious, again. "That doesn't mean I'd chance it."

He walked out of the room after he said that. I stared down at my notepad, thinking about my life choices up until that point. Maybe this is what it all lead to; this could potentially be the biggest story of my career. I had to follow it through, didn't I? "Kelsey?" It was Levi. I turned in my chair to look at him. "Are we done?" I nodded and he began to pack up. I walked over to Jeremy who regarded me with a cocked eyebrow and his arms folded against his chest.

"So?" I asked him.

"You totally do what to try and find it, don't you?"

" _Don't you?_ "

He nodded slightly. "I do."

"Then we've got to..." I said, I looked over at Adam and then Levi. "Right?"

Levi was wrapping up cable in his hand as he spoke, "I mean I'm totally down. Plus you're the boss."

Adam pointed at Levi, "What he said."

"That is bullshit." I told them. "We have to all want to do it, I'm not forcing you to do something you don't want to do." I shook my head emphatically.

"Nah, I'm totally interested in trying to find the house." Adam said as he hunched his shoulder. "For real."

"Same here." Levi added.

"Well lucky for you guys my father lives lakeside, eh?" Tracy butted in. I had almost forgotten she was there and immediately felt like shit.

"Hey listen, I was just speaking for us; I'm sure that's the last thing you want to do all things considered."

She shrugged. "I didn't say I wanted to go. Just saying you could potentially kill two birds with one stone." She smirked. The four of us looked to one another and nodded. This was going to happen.

 _ **11.**_

 _ **Higgins Haven**_

 _Saturday, August 14_ _th_ _1985_

Christine Higgins had gathered 5 of her friends for a weekend trip at her parents lodge located deep within Crystal Lake. A few miles from the site of the original Camp Blood massacre, the lodge had been persona non grata for the past 5 years by her family. It took a lot of convincing on her part to let her plan this trip, let alone take it. She only wanted to be there with her closest friends; Andy and his girlfriend Debbie; Shelly, her best friend since junior high; and Chuck and Chili, fellow theater nerds all. The land had earned the nickname "Higgins Haven" decades earlier because it was a popular vacation spot for not only her family but for all their closest friends and confidants. The fact that it had sat unused for almost 5 years was a crime in Chris' book; a crime she sought to rectify. It looked to be a quiet weekend, with the only thing going on at that time was renovations at the old campsite. When she had gotten word of that going on, Chris figured what better time than now? Eventually all parents came around and the trip was on. Before arriving she found herself extra excited because Debbie had found out she was pregnant and planned to tell Andy during the trip. They were all only 17 and while the prospect of motherhood was frightening, how could she not be happy for her friend who had gushed about it earlier in the day?

Andy had a lanky frame but, in Chris' opinion, a gorgeous face. He had a well-defined chin and a short mop of brown hair that helped complete his look and helped him stand out from the pack. He was laid back, easy going; it was easy to see what Debbie saw in him. Debbie was the prom-queen type; studious and in a ton of clubs, she was everyone's best friend. Her and Chris had grown up together and had only grown more inseparable as their lives went on. They had planned to be roommates in college together next year, but with Debbie's sudden pregnancy, a lot of that plan was mostly now in doubt. Chuck was the oldest of the group, he was 19 and two years out from getting expelled from the school in his senior year. He had met Chili that same year when she was still just a sophomore and they had been together ever since. Chili's real name was actually Charlene but had earned the nickname for her penchant for craving Wendy's brand of the cuisine anytime she got high with Chuck; which was often.

They originally were going to be a sextet; Debbie had arranged for a date of sorts for Shelly, a good friend of hers she was sure the entire crew would like named Vera. However when they arrived to pick her up, they were met by an angry mother who scolded them all for even going back to that 'forsaken place' and forbid her daughter from going; so that was that. Shelly seemed disappointed, but used self-deprecating humor to mask it. "She would have found me ugly anyway." He had said, and that was him in a nutshell for better or worse. Shelly's full name was Sheldon, he was a chubby dude with massive Jew-fro that appeared to go off in 50 different directions. He plied his trade in self-deprecation and practical jokes for as long as Chris had known him, which as it turned out was almost as long as she had known Debbie. He clearly approached them both as children due to a crush of some kind, which over the years manifested itself in problematic ways. The wort of it coming one summer in-between junior high and high school. It lead to a lot of awkward conversations and even a small fight, but things eventually got patched up. Weather Sheldon still harbor and unrequited thing for Chris was still a mystery to everyone but presumably Sheldon; if he did he hid it well behind his typical brand of humor. Andy, for his part, thought Shelly was hilarious and often encouraged him, much to everyone else's chagrin. His lifeless body was in front of her now, throat slit from ear to ear. Blood kinked in his hair, no doubt from arterial spray. She fought back tears trying to fathom how this could all be happening.

The day started so well, little spat with Vera's mother aside. When they first arrived the sun was shining, the wind calm and nature was singing its familiar sound. She loved it here and was glad to finally re-experience this place one more time. She was barely twelve the last time she was here; since the last time she saw him: Rick Sheridan. He was this slightly older boy she had a crush on and seeing him now caused butterflies to flutter inside her. She had actually called him when planning the trip, she wanted to gauge if there was any interest in hanging out; there was and she was ecstatic. She had excitedly hugged him, originally so happy to see him.

But there were flags. Giant blinking red flags that kept giving her pause. He mostly spoke about sex, looking to get physical immediately and that made her uncomfortable but had no idea how to express it. In a way she feared his reaction, so she was indirect rather than direct. When he tried to insinuate that he had passed on a date with someone else to be here with her, she got slightly annoyed at the attempted manipulation; to be honest she wasn't sure if he even realized he was doing it. When Shelly pulled off a prank, she actually almost enjoyed Rick's annoyance. Shelly had jumped out of the lake wearing a battered old hockey mask and had grabbed Rick's leg as it dangled over the side of the dock. It gave her a fright as well, but this was Shelly. It was what he did; the fact he had brought along the prop kit from the school theater department pretty much told her to expect it. Watching Rick lose his shit was almost worth it. He wanted to go for a drive, away from there, he had been so fed up. Chris tried to get him to stay, to understand, but he was adamant. And so she went with, that eventually led to the final straw.

This time when he attempted to get physical she rebuffed him in no uncertain terms. Suddenly everything came pouring out, every last opinion she held of him since she first saw him. It felt cathartic; she got up and decided to walk back herself; he could rot for all she cared at this point. The walk was quiet and that itself was unnerving. When Rick pulled up slowly behind her in his vintage VW bug, apologizing profusely and asking her to get in, she actually obliged. Being out there alone had gotten her dander up, it creeped her out and she figured at least better the devil you know. Thankfully the ride was uneventful, she could tell that everything she had said had made some sort of impact. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

They approached the lodge, a decent sized two floor building made out of stained brown wood. It was rustic in style but inside it had all the modern amenities. All the lights were on and blazing but when they entered it was dead silent. Burnt popcorn sat sizzling on the stove, filling the air with a thick black smoke that draped over them like a heavy curtain. They both gagged and choked; thinking quick Chris grabbed the pot and tossed it outside. Rick threw the door open and began to use it as a makeshift fan. "This isn't like them." Chris would say.

"Well, they're you're friends." Rick said.

Chris glared at him through the rapidly fading blackness. Sheepishly he muttered something about going to check the barn, she waved him off and made her way into the main foyer of the lodge. She glanced up the spiral staircase that made its home smack dab in the middle of the home. She called out to her friends, only to be met by the sound of the fireplace crackling off in the corner; the light cast an ominous glow across the room and it chilled Chris to the bone. "It's not funny, you guys!" She shouted uselessly. She took a step up the stairs, and then another. She climbed tentatively, a hard grip on the bannister and a tremble on her lip. She came to the top and glanced around, no one on the balcony level but she could hear something in the distance, down the hall.

Chris strained her ear to make out what it could be. The sound came into focus; _drip drip drip_ , it was the pattering of water on tile. It came in staccato bursts, echoing in the bathroom with each drop. _The bathroom._ Stumbling slightly, Chris stormed to the door at the end of the hall, the hiss of a shower head was going at full blast. As she cautiously pushed the door open steam smacked her in the face and filled the hallway, she waved it all out in her face as she approached the shower. The glass door was closed but fogged up, if someone was in there she could not tell. "Hey...can you hear me?" It was the only thing she could think to say. She felt dumb talking out loud; it could be empty after all. That thought made her hair stand on end.

She flung the door open and was met by more steam; emerging from that steam was Shelly. His mouth hung open, slack jawed. Blood pumped out of his fresh neck wound and he twitched so much it gave the impression he was reaching out for help. Chris shrieked and she scrambled backward to get away from the horror. The floor was wet, his sneakers were slick, and before she knew it she had crashed onto her behind. A whimper got caught in her throat as she stared at Shelly who could do nothing but stare back. Chris felt glued to the floor and she couldn't look away despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to run.

A loud crash downstairs snapped her out of her daze. She scrambled to her feet, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. "Rick!" She screamed, as if that would actually accomplish anything. She slid to a stop at the stair banister, slamming into it hard enough to knock some of the wind out of her. She gasped heavily and gazed down to the first floor. Rick now lie there, in the main room, surrounded by glass. Had he jumped in the window from the outside? The thought crossed her mind but was dismissed almost as quickly with the sound of heavy stomping from outside broke the silence. It stepped into the house from the outside, glass crunching under its heavy thick boots as it crossed the window pane. It stared down at rick for what felt like forever to Chris; she'd fallen into a state of shock at this point. Its big bald head gazed around from side to side, as if searching for something specific, when with a quick move of its neck that defied his size, it stared up at Chris. It was wearing Shelly's mask, and in the glow of the fireplace two black holes seemed to rest where its eyes would be.

It huffed heavily and resumed its heavy footsteps making a path to the stairs. Chris wasn't frozen this time, he backed up in a panic and searching frantically for a place to hide. The whole way had 4 doors to choose from, one of them already open because it was the batch room. Before that was a bedroom, at the very end of the hall was a closet, and across the bathroom was yet another bedroom. The stomping seemed to be coming closer forcing Chris to make a snap decision. She ran to the bathroom and loudly slammed the door, she then quietly slinked into the closet. With a soft click, the closet door closed; Chris slid down to her knees and began to peer through the key hole.

The mass appeared at the end of the hallway; again it peered from side to side. As if it were weighing its options before stomping toward the bathroom. Chris nearly freaked out and moved back from the keyhole, covering her mouth in the process to keep from betraying herself. She held there for a long moment, shaking, shivering. Her fingers dug into her cheeks; she wanted to scream; she wanted to cry. Glass can be heard shattering in the bathroom, was it angry? Chris steeled herself one more time and returned her eye to the keyhole. The mass emerged from the bathroom and began to walk back out of the hallway and toward the staircase. Chris breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back further into the closet. She was too relieved to worry about what she was going to do next. Chris looked over to her right, and in the darkness she could just barely make out Debbie's lifeless eyes staring back at her. This time, she could not help herself, she screamed.

Realizing what she had just done, she quickly covered her mouth and returned back to the keyhole. It was already charging at her, axe in hand ready to strike. "No!" She shouted, being quiet didn't matter now. The door cracked when its shoulder slammed into it, it then began to pound at the door with its hands. Without thinking Chris threw the door open, catching the Mass off balance. Both tumbled to the ground, the axe sliding past Chris across the hardwood floor. She tried to scramble to her feet but it was quicker and grabbed her ankle, keeping her in place with a vice like grip. It squeezed and to Chris it felt as if it was going to snap her ankle in half. She searched frantically for something, anything, to help her. This couldn't be happening she kept telling herself. She noticed the axe lying there in front of her, she reached out for it, pulling with all she had to get a few fingers on it. She inched it closer and got a handful of the handle. She kicked at the mass and spun around; she gripped the axe tightly and let out a primal scream as she slammed the axe head into its chest.

It was hardly deep but the shock seemed to force it to go limp. With her foot free Chris slid away past its reach and slowly got to her feet. She put weight on her ankle to see if it had in fact been broken; it seemed okay. Still, it was sore and she began to limp back down the spiral staircase, taking her time. She stood in the main doorway, looking out into the night. In the distance she could hear sirens and wondered if it was because of what happened here.

Stomping again; fast this time. She turned around and caught a glimpse of him just as the axe connected with her neck.

 _ **12.**_

A thick cloud of gray smoke poured out from the front of the van; Jeremy had emerged from it hacking and gagging like no tomorrow. I pursed my lips while I had my arms folded, "I guess it was only a matter of time." I said with a sardonic edge. Jeremy glared at me and resumed his position under the hood. The sun was beginning its nightly decent and here we were stuck in the middle of the Crystal Lake woods with a broken down van; is this real life? I wondered. We had turned on to this dirt path from the main road, at this point I wondered if anyone in town actually live off a real road at all. Tracy laughed when I intimated that, it wasn't the first time she had heard that. After a few minutes of travel a loud clank and pop exploded out from the car; it startled Jeremy so much it forced him to yank the wheel to his right. Luckily the vehicle had slowed a bit due to the force of the ruckus and it wasn't as frightening as it could have been.

I walked up behind Jeremy and ask, "So what's the verdict?"

"Uh, it's totally dead."

"Clearly, but can you fix it?"

"Hell no, this thing needs funeral." He wiped his hands on his pants and pulled out his phone. "Gonna have to call AAA I guess."

"Ugh, who knows how long they'd take, we're losing daylight." I told him.

"Well we can't just leave it here." He breathed out exaggeratedly while he seemed to be weighing options. He looked back toward Tracy who was chatting it up with Adam who was petting Gordon. "How far are we?" He asked her.

She looked back at him, squinty eyed because of how low in the sky the sun was getting. "Uh-maybe a couple of miles or so?"

"Is it walkable?" He asked her, I eyed him quizzically.

"Walkable?" I asked him.

He turned back to me. "Yeah, I'm thinking I'll stay here and wait for AAA, you guys go on ahead." He turned back to Tracy, "So?"

She shrugged, "I mean, anything's walkable when you think about it but, I mean, it's not outright awful."

"Great." He turned back to me and continued searching for the phone number. "You guys go ahead, hopefully by the time they're here you guys will be done. Yes, hi." He turned away from me to speak to the agent on the line. I wasn't sure how I felt about his; this was such a Jeremy thing to do, taking one for the crew, but how could I not feel any unease in this place. Still, I felt absolutely ridiculous at even suggesting I was uncomfortable here that I let it go. I walked up to the other 3, stopping to pet Gordon some more. "So he's going to wait here for AAA." I told them.

"And I'm leading you guys on a walk to my dad's, I gather."

"If that's cool."

She shrugged, "Why not I can use the steps. Come on, Gordy." She went on to the front of the van while I went to Levi and Adam; I offered to carry something they were holding but they declined. "I can just carry the DAC and boom mic, they're not so heavy." Adam told me.

Levi strapped the camera bag to his back; he looked up at me and asked, "You sure about this boss?"

"Not in the least bit." I raised my eyebrows. "Buuuut we can't afford to be wasting hours out here and Jeremy seemed adamant so."

He nodded. "Yeah I get you." He walked past me to join Tracy and Adam at the front. I gazed out into the forest. It was serenely quiet but still made me feel wholly uncomfortable. Darkness was slowly creeping in but it was in no hurry, it knew it's time would come. The sun hung there in the sky like an old security guard, making sure the lights stay on for as long as possible. After that, well we were on our own. I joined the others at the front.

"You sure you don't want Gordon to stay behind? She's a good guard dog." I heard Tracy ask Jeremy.

"No no, I'll be fine really. Besides I'm sure she'd hate it." Jeremy smiled.

Tracy thought for a second and then grinned back. "You're absolutely right, shed absolutely hate it."

"Ah I'm sure she would have learned to love Jeremy, we all did eventually. Stress the word 'eventually'" I began to laugh.

"Very funny." He shook his head. "They said they'd be here in a couple of hours, we'll see if they weren't bullshitting me."

"Dude they were probably bullshitting you." Adam said with a smirk.

"Yeah probably. Either way I got a wait ahead of me and you guys got a walk. Be careful!" He turned to get back in the van but stopped short as if he had forgotten something. "Oh, make sure you text me when you get there so I don't freak out."

I mock saluted. "Will do." Tracy took the lead as we walked on further down the path and deeper into the forest. The silhouette of the van grew smaller behind us as we walked on. I couldn't believe I was actually here, walking in the woods of Crystal Lake as the sun continued to set. I could tell we were getting closer to the lake because a sudden chill infiltrated the air, no doubt coming off the top of the lake itself. I remarked to Tracy that it was strange that her father still chose to live in this place.

"You know, that's something I've asked myself a lot over the years. But then again, I'm still here."

'Yeah? And what's your excuse then?" I said with a laugh.

She smirked. "Well it's 2018 and I'm a waitress slash cook in a very small town."

"Ha, point taken." Suddenly the lake came in to view. It shimmered with the setting sun, giving off a soft glow that spoke to a beauty this place once must have had. In contest it was a cold graveyard; the perfect spot for lost souls to wander the grounds for eternity seeking justice. We had all stopped to take it in. I lightly slapped Levi on the arm and said, "You should film this." He had gotten so lost in the scenery the camera bag hung limply at his side. I was honestly surprised the camera wasn't on his shoulder already. He nodded quickly and removed the camera from his bag. He wandered off from the group to grab a better angle; I noticed Adam holding out the boom over the water, trying to grab more ambient noise we could insert later. Tracy was kneeled beside Gordon who appeared a little jumpy out here. Tracy saw me noticing her and offered: "She just wants to jump in."

"I don't blame her." I said.

"It's probably cold as shit in there." She said with a laugh.

I nodded. I looked out into the horizon, trying to see if I could make out anything on the other side of the lake. Faint lights were off in the distance, but the glow was about all I could make out.

"That's it over there." Tracy said, motioning toward the lights with her chin. "Boy is he going to be surprised to see me!" she said with no small amount of panic in her voice.

"So why does your father stay? Do you know?"

She stayed silent for a moment before answering. "I mean, I probably know deep down but I've never asked. It's his old family's house. It's been inn a bit of disrepair since it all happened, I know he moved in to make it a home again but beyond that…"

"Then what do _you_ think?" I asked her.

She turned sharply at me with a cocked eyebrow; her eyes were accusatory, like I was extracting something out of her she didn't want to say out loud. Eventually she turned back and old said "Jason." Softly. And suddenly the look made sense. I wondered if were doing more harm than good here for her, having her take us here. I dismissed it; how were we supposed to know their relationship was strained? No, she had ample opportunity to tell us to fuck off. I suspected she wanted to do this, but struggled with the part where you _actually_ did it. I couldn't' blame her, I've had those moments myself way too many times. The sun hung lower in the sky, it was almost all punched out. A light mist began to rise from the lake.

"Alright guys, let's get going." I called out to Adam and Levi. The jogged over to us and we started moving again. The chorus of crickets grew louder with each passing step; I started to imagine it in time with the beat of my footsteps and it was then I knew I was trying to focus on anything just to keep from freaking out. I've always hated the outdoors and after this trip I may never want to see it again. It was funny to me, how I'd sit in my apartment bemoaning the light pollution and wishing my life were a little more green but when I'm actually out in it I found myself wishing for concrete sidewalks and a French vanilla latte. I was such a…city slicker. Before I got too disgusted with myself, I was interrupted by Gordons barking who had suddenly bolted off into the forest.

"Gordon, no!" Tracy shouted while giving chase. The rest of us followed shouting the animals name in unison, this was just what we needed. I found myself on my own, we had all slightly spread out and were each calling for Gordon to come. I felt so stupid; would the dog even listen to us strangers? Gazing around it struck me just how easily it was to get lost in woods such as these; everything easily blends together that you could end up turned around in an instant. I began to consider that maybe it wasn't so odd that people went missing here after all.

"Gordon! Bad girl!" I heard Tracy shout. "Over here guys!" The rest of us converged while following her voice. Tracy was knelt down beside Gordon trying to calm the clearly agitated animal. She whined profusely and stared out into the forest beyond. "Is she okay?" I asked.

Tracy nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Something spooked her I think?"

" _Spooked her_?" I asked with a bit of exasperation.

"I mean it could have been anything, there are bears in these woods you know."

"Well that's comforting." I said dryly.

"Great so either a super murderer or a bear, I like these choices." Adam said.

"Y'know, you could consider a bear a super murderer, couldn't you?" Levi asked. "Makes you think." We all shot him a look that caused him to turn so red even the dog seemed more concerned with that than whatever was outside. Finally Tracy stood up, "I think she's okay now. Let's get a move on, we've basically gotta walk the entire lake perimeter to get there."

"Lead the way." I told her and she did. The sun had fully set during our trek and we were forced to navigate via our phone and moon light. It was bright enough in the sky to almost be comforting but I knew it was a mirage, a tease of false safety under moon light because no matter how bright it was, it was never bright enough. The glow I had seen earlier from across the lake came into focus as we got closer. They belonged to a large two story wood home surrounded by a large porch that wrapped around all sides like a moat. Make shift rafters clung to the outside, remnants of a remodel job paused for the summer. There were parts of the outside that looked like they hadn't seen any love or care in decades, while others were quite nice and modern. The windows were all new, as was the furniture outside. The porch too was brand new and was a stark contrast to the outer walls which were still faded, weathered and peppered with rotten wood at various points. A few feet beyond it looked like its decrepit, evil, twin. It served as a stark contrast to what could have been. This must be the house the remaining victims were found in back in 1985. She tried to recall how each one had been dispatched; one was chopped in the face with a meat cleaver; another stabbed with a kitchen knife in the back of the head; one had been impaled on a broken coat rack; and another had been split in two, presumably by an axe. She couldn't recall the others one hand, and she suddenly felt disrespectful thinking about this just a few feet from where they were murdered on the other.

"Alright just hang back a sec." Tracy told us as she took the porch steps slowly. She was hesitating and I felt for her in that moment. She stood at the door and wavered; she seemed unsure of herself. She held up a fist to knock but still waited; then Gordon suddenly began barking, making her decision easier. She began to knock. After a moment there was no answer, so she knocked again. Suddenly the door flew open and a middle aged man stood in the doorway. He had dark brown hair that was clicked back; his face had stubble and was cracked from sun exposure, I assumed from all the house work. He squinted at first but soon his eyes would grow wide like two cracked eggs on a frying pan.

"Hey Dad."

 _We made it. How's the wait?_

The text flashed on his phone, briefly illuminating the front dash and waking him up from his mini nap. It was boring and cold out here; he wasn't much for phone games either but even if he was it was smarter to conserve battery. With the car unable to start it meant there was no heat and no way to charge the phone so he was basically tortured on two fronts tonight. He responded, _I'm having a blast out here. So what's he like?_

He stared out the window while waiting for a reply. The windows had fogged up while he sat there; he traced out a small smiley face with his index finger before fully wiping the window with his shirt sleeve. The wood was so dense and thick out here that it blocked out the moonlight. He really couldn't make out anything out there, just vague shapes and shadows; he turned away before his mind stated playing tricks on him and the fogging resumed. He checked the time on his phone, it was only 8pm. He's already lost an hour here; he sighed exasperated. He blamed their boss Johnny for being too cheap to get a better company van than this one. Anytime he turned the key and the thing turned on was a daily sort of sweet relief for him. When this trip was being planned out, Jeremy warned him that he wasn't so sure this heap could actually make the trip. But John flashed one of those winning smiles at everyone and insisted it would be fine, it was only the next state over right?

Every minute that passed was a minute spent resisting the urge to call John up and say "I told you so."but he wasn't normally so petty thank fully so it was an easy urge to suppress. His phone flashed again, another message Kelsey: _To be determined, a bit of a reunion going down right now._ He smirked and typed out, _Oh yeah, how awkward do you feel on a scale from1-10?_ He put the phone back down on the dash and leaned his head back. He interlocked his fingers across his stomach and began to hum this song that had been stuck in his head all week. He didn't even know its name, it didn't even matter. It had wormed its way into his brain and he found himself tapping his toe to its beat absentmindedly more often than he'd like.

A shadow filled his driver side window; it was so sudden it barely registered at first. He was snapped out of it by the fist that came punching through it, sending glass shattering across his face and chest. Little scratches appeared on his face from the flying glass and a large hand shaped frying pan grabbed at his head. Long sharp blackened nails dug into his skin and Jeremy kicked and shouted and tried to pry the monster hand from his face but it seemed to not even register his struggles. Another hand shot in the van and grabbed him under his arm, it was trying to pull him out. Jeremy struggled, but it was all being ignored like he was just a small kitten being kept from the drapes. Protruding glass shards still embedded in the doorframe slashed across his arms as he was being yanked from the front seat. Both hands shifted to his head and continued to pull, forcing Jeremy to emit a high piercing shrill of a cry.

Suddenly the mass threw him down to the ground like so much garbage and he tumbled down an embankment unable to control his momentum. He slammed head first into a rock, a cool liquid running down his face and further muddying his vision. His head pounded and he tried to speak but only a jumbled mess of letters jutted out from his throat. Heavy stomping footsteps approached him; Jeremy kicked out, a desperate attempt to ward it off like an injured dog cowering before a hunter. With ease it lifted Jeremy up by his waist, it only grunted as it wrapped up Jeremy in its arms and hugged him closer to its frame. The popping crunch of his bones being crushed were loud and plain to Jeremy as he pounded uselessly at the mass' face. His knuckles broke and bled as they collided with the hard resin of the cracked hockey mask it wore.

Jeremy let out one last pitiful gurgle as his spine snapped with a loud satisfactory pop. The mass continued to squeeze, crushing Jeremy's remaining bones while he hung limply in its grip not unlike a wet noodle. Eventually it stopped, pausing to stare down at Jeremy as blood began to pour out of his hung open mouth. Effortlessly again, it swung the carcass on to its shoulder; it stole a glance back at the van before it stomped off into the deeper forest. The shadows swallowed them both whole and the night was quiet once more save for the buzzing from a phone still left on the blood covered dashboard.

 _9 and a half. Let us know when the tow gets there okay?_

 _ **13.**_

 _ **The Jarvis House.**_

 _Sunday, August 15_ _th_ _1985_

Tommy Jarvis was a 12 year old kid who loved what most kids of that era loved: video games and horror movies. Horror movies were in fact his biggest love; his mother Tracy would take him into town on the weekends to rent the newest one on the shelf and lucky for him every movie was new to him. He had even gotten a mail order special effects kit that was his whole world; fact was that if he wasn't in front of his Nintendo, he was probably in his room working on a mask. His mother had even allowed him to have a subscription to Fangoria, he'd even wrote in once professing his admiration for Tom Savini and included a picture of him wearing his latest homemade latex mask to his surprise he received a personalized letter back from Savini himself, urging him to keep working on the craft and to keep up the great work. It hung framed in his room above his computer. He lived lake side with his mother and sister, Trish. Their father and mother had divorced 6 years ago as he had gotten a promotion that required he'd move across the country and Mrs. Jarvis wasn't sold about uprooting the whole family. It formed a schism that was unrepairable so they divorced.

Tommy usually spent summers living with him, and he dug it, especially out there in California; tinsel town. His favorite place to go was the Hollywood sign and the walk of Fame; the best trip was actually last year when he got to go on a studio tour of the paramount lot. Unfortunately this year an important conference was scheduled at Mr. Jarvis' work and the trip had to be postponed. Christmas sounded feasible but with nothing set in stone, next year seemed more likely. Once the murders happened at the campgrounds 5 years ago, Mrs. Jarvis briefly saw the merit to leaving town, but this was her family home passed down from generations, it was hard to just uproot oneself from that. Even so that didn't change her feelings for her husband, that ship long sailed.

Next door was a summer vacation rental that was in use typically all year by someone. The owner must've been making a fortune the family would often remark to one another. A group of people arrived early this morning and were still whooping and hollering as they unloaded the car. They were sextet, 4 guys and two girls but only two of them seemed to be an actual couple as they had emerged from the car with their arms wrapped around them. Tommy was watching from afar when Gordon bolted outside from behind him forcing Tommy to give chase. Mrs. Jarvis told Trish to follow him out there "And introduce yourselves while you're at it." With a smirk as she read the mornings paper. No mention of murders from the previous two nights, it was possible the news arrived after they had been pressed, or the police were yet to say anything; it would end up something that would be debated in the decades that followed.

The golden retriever bounced excitedly across the expanse that separated the two houses. One of the girls screamed in excitement, proclaiming how much she loved dogs to Gordon who accepted all pets at all times and probably loved her too. Tommy came bounding in next, yelling for Gordon in panted breaths. Trish soon followed. She had curly brown hair that was tied up in a bun, she was dressed comfortably in jean shorts and tank top and sandals.

"His name is Gordon" She said with a smile.

"Well hello Gordon! I'm Sam." Sam had straight black hair, she was clad in blue short shorts and a blue crop top. She stood up while wiping her hands and offered one for a shake, which Trish accepted.

"I'm Trish, that's my brother Tommy over there." Tommy gave a small wave, he was very shy around new people, but curious too. He motioned Gordon to his side and began to scratch its ears. "Meeting new people huh buddy?" He said to the dog.

"Hey guys." Sam motioned to the rest of her crew, they had all stopped unloading the car to greet the visitors. "These are my friends, Jim, Teddy, Doug, Paul and Sara." Jim was a tall lanky 20 year old with a mop of dirty blonde hair; Teddy looked to be a foot shorter with short curly black hair; Paul was well built and wore a dark red cap; Doug too was well built but had a different body type, leaner. His medium length black hair swept over his eyes; Sara was a mousy looking red head whose gaze never really met Trish's or Tommy's.

"How long are you guys renting the house for?" Trish asked.

"For the week." Sam replied. "We're hoping to get one last fun time in together before we all head off to college."

"Oh that's awesome, I'm headed to college too in like a week. God I can't wait." Trish said with a laugh. "Where are you going?"

"NYU." Sam replied.

"Really? Me too."

"Well hey maybe we'll see you there huh?"

Trish nodded. "Yeah, maybe. Well we'll leave you guys to it; if you ever need anything don't hesitate to knock on our door, someone is always home, either me or my mother or this little guy."

"I'm not little." Tommy interrupted, he was kind of struck by Sam's beauty and didn't appreciate Trish treating him like a little kid in front of her as a young boy is wont to do. They all said their good byes, with Jim and Ted making sure to let Trish know party 1 was tonight and that she was more than welcome. Trish wasn't much of a partier at all; she never really drank and spent most of her free time reading or going out for runs with her mom. She actually enjoyed the solitude of the area; she found going to school and dealing with her peers a hassle. It was probably why, despite her excitement to go off to college, she was very anxious over it too. She also didn't like the idea of leaving her family behind, especially her mother who would never admit how much the divorce affected her, especially her psyche as it was clear to Trish her mother was suffering from depression and having her kids around went a long way to help her cope. Could she really abandon her?

Of course there was no way Mrs. Jarvis would allow her to not go to college, especially NYU, so maybe the whole fight with herself was moot, not that ever stopped anything before. The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, but a night fell lightening cracked across the sky acting as a starter pistol for a forthcoming down pour. It fell so heavily that walking through it felt akin to walking through draperies. Mrs. Jarvis returned from her evening walk soaked from head to toe; her gray jogging suit clung to her body like glue. Her children were busy in the kitchen making dinner; Tommy was stirring a pot, Trish was busy chopping away at vegetables. She walked over to her son and gave him a kiss on the cheek before taking a whiff of what was cooking in the pot. "Mm, smells lovely kiddo. What's for dinner?"

"Beef stew." Trish replied.

"Wonderful." She clapped her hands together. "Can I help?"

Trish whirled around and held the knife handle to her chin in thought. "Well let's see, veggies are being cut…ah, could you season the meat?"

Mrs. Jarvis looked over to Tommy. "Only if I could have a hand?"

"Yeah!" They moseyed over to the spice rack and began picking out choices. As Mrs. Jarvis handed Tommy the last choice the entire house grew dark. It gave Tommy such a start he ended up dropping all over the spices, they clattered on the floor like bullets ejecting from a machine gun. "Sorry." He said with hunched shoulders.

"Storm knocked out the power I guess." Trish said, putting down the knife.

"Oh I bet those kids next store wouldn't know how to restart the generator." Mrs. Jarvis said with a sigh. "I'll go start hours and then head over there and see if they need a hand."

"I'll come with you Mom." Trish offered.

"Me too." Added Tommy.

"No way kiddo." Trish scolded. "Who knows what those kids are up to over there?"

"Uh yeah, that's the point!" Tommy complained.

"Stay here and be ready to restart the burners when the power comes back on, ok kiddo?" Said Mrs. Jarvis while kneeled in front of Tommy. Trish handed her a flashlight and a yellow slicker to slip into. Trish put on her own blue slicker and they both exited into the massive downpour outside. The rain was still falling heavy like stone pebbles, they bounced off their slickers with loud pops that drowned out their voices. Their flashlights barely pierced through the rain to illuminate the path forward. "Let's check on them first!" Mrs. Jarvis shouted toward Trish. They approached the vacation house, a 3 story Victorian home that stood ominously on the lake shore. Its power too appeared to be out; as they approached the main entrance they noticed the door was wide open. Mrs. Jarvis gently pushed the door open and shouted, "Hello? It's the Jarvis' from next door!"

There was no answer. The entire house was darkened except for a bright light coming from the living room on the right. Both women entered the home and then the living room and noticed a projector running but it had no film in it. The light shined from the machine uselessly against the white wall to an audience of no one. "Was their car outside?" Mrs. Jarvis asked.

"I couldn't tell, I'm honestly not sure." Trish replied.

They continued looking around the home and found every room seemingly empty. They paused at the bottom of the stairs and shined their lights up there. "Maybe they went into town." Mrs. Jarvis said finally.

"You don't want to look upstairs?"

Mrs. Jarvis thought for a moment before replying, "You go do that, I'll get the generator going. Meet me down there when you're done." Trish nodded and made her way up the stairs. Lightning continued to streak across the sky, briefly lighting up the interior as it did so. At the top of the landing Trish shined her light down the hallway, highlighting 4 different rooms. She decided to try the first room on her right, the door was shut so she made sure to knock before she gave the knob a try. After no answer she pushed the door open and shined her light around; it was as empty as the last one.

She moved on to the room across from it; empty as well. She debated over checking the last two rooms. She felt silly creeping around in the dark looking for strangers she had only just met this morning. Still, she figured she'd come this far, she may as well finish the job. She approached the 3rd door and again knocked, when no answer was forthcoming she pushed the door open. She cast her light across the room, passing over a lump that made her do a double take. She shined it over there again and gasped. Her flashlight clattered on the floor, the beam of light casting upon the bloody face of Jim. He lie crumpled in the corner with a butcher's knife buried into his face. The wound was so fresh that blood was still dripping down the blade handle, the majority of it appeared to have been soaked into the floor. Trish screamed and then began running down the stairs, hysterically yelling for her mother. She bounded down the basement steps two at a time, forcing Mrs. Jarvis to bolt up and meet her daughter at the bottom.

"Trish-what's wrong?!" She had grabbed hold of her daughter's shoulders and tried to look into her eyes; Trish was terrified.

"He-he's dead." She stammered out.

Mrs. Jarvis furrowed her brow. "Dead? Who?"

"One of the boys, u-upstairs—Oh god there was so much blood!" Panic began to rise in her voice, it had begun to get more shrill with each word. "-please mom let's get out of here!"

Mrs. Jarvis nodded emphatically. "Okay baby, don't worry." She brought her in for a hug, holding her tight as an act of comfort. Mrs. Jarvis turned to go back for her flashlight when she was quickly besieged by a huge mountain of a man. It grabbed her by the shoulders and tossed her into the generator, causing a small explosion as her body began to jolt as electricity passed through her body. Trish screamed, "MOM!" but the mass ignored her, grabbing the now smoking body of Mrs. Jarvis and throwing her down to the floor violently. Lightning struck again outside, briefly illuminating the basement. The mass stood over Mrs. Jarvis, chopping at her repeatedly with a long blade in one of its hands. The horror Trish saw was just a glimpse, but it was horrifying enough to send her careening back up the stairs and out of the house. The thudding wet sounds the blade made every time it connected with her mother's flesh would echo in Trish's mind as she ran back to their home.

Tears streamed down her face but with the way the rain was hitting her it was impossible to tell the difference. She slammed into her front door, it flew open violently knocking over a vase that had sat right beside it. Crying, she slammed the door shut again, bracing herself against it. "Tommy! Tommy!" She screamed, not realizing her brother was already behind her and freaking out himself.

"Trish-wha-"

"Go get me a hammer and nails now!"

"But-"

"NOW!" Tommy ran off and Trish checked the windows, locked. Thank god. Tommy returned carrying a wood handled hammer and a green metal tool box; he handed the hammer to Trish and set the toolbox down. He unlocked the box and grabbed the pile of wood nails that sat in one of the very top compartments. Trish gobbled each on handed to her happily, furiously she slammed each nail into the door; she aimed to nail it to its frame. When she was done she grabbed the toolbox herself and ran to their back door, again checking all windows, again nailing that door shut. She backed away from her handy work huffing feverishly; she backed into the living room where her brother stood, clutching at his arms, shivering and terrified.

"Trish…?" He whimpered. "W-what's going on?"

Trish began to cry again; she threw her hand over her mouth and attempted to choke it down. Mom was dead, how was she going to tell him? She composed herself best she could and turned around to face him. She looked down into his big eyes, he was looking to her for comfort, for safety. "We-we need to call the police." She said, finally.

"But the power?"

Right, the power. The generator was outside of their house, unlike over by the vacation home. She couldn't go back out there, but what other choice do they have? "We'll figure something out." She brought him closer for a hug, he grabbed her tight and things for a moment felt normal. Until their front window exploded; something had come crashing through it. Glass flew everywhere like dead leaves caught in a hurricane; Trish held Tommy close, attempting to shield him from the tiny knife shards flying in every direction. The object tumbled and landed in their direction; it was their mother. Her body mangled and cut, Trish broke down at the sight. A shadow appeared in the window, it was him. From the basement. The blood caked hockey mask glinted in the moonlight, his tattered work shirt and pants flapped in the rain soaked wind. He stood there, staring, but quickly charged. Trish screamed and grabbed Tommy, running up the stairs with this mass on their heels. It lost its balance briefly attempting to reach for her leg but it recovered quickly.

They ran into Tommy's room and slammed the door shut behind them. Trish ordered Tommy to go to the corner beside his bed; she took position beside the door, she still had the hammer and she gripped it tightly. Tommy cowered beside his bed, he softly said her sister's name but she was focused on the door. The handle jiggles, then quickly silence. A fist connects with the door outside, it pounds again and again increasing in its frequency and intensity. Silence again.

The door explodes; it pushed through the door so forcefully it splintered into 20 or more different pieces. It looked at Tommy, the cowering boy seemed to pique its interest the most as its head locked on in that direction. Trish, momentarily dazed from the force of the mass crushing through the door, recovered quickly and swings her hammer as hard as she could. It connected on the side of its head, catching it on one of the leather straps and ear. It reeled, as if shocked and crashed through the bed in a heap.

Trish motioned to Tommy. He stepped hesitantly around the sprawled out body, eyeing it with extreme caution before sprinting over to Trish who hugged him. "We should go."

"But where?" He asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know, away from here."

"Was that really mom?"

She nodded and grabbed his hand to leave the room. Tommy stared at her as he started to follow behind her, suddenly then his eyes grew wide and he pulled away from her. "My radio!"

Trish looked at him, "Your what? Tommy!" He forced her to release her grip and he ran over back near the bed, he reached out for the ham radio located on his dresser. "It runs on batteries, we can call the po-"A glint of metal stopped him mid-sentence as a large knife flew past his head and dig into the wall just inches from his face. The mass slowly rose from the bed, holding the side of its head.

"Tommy move!" Trish yelled and Tommy scrambled to her, hugging the radio close to his chest. Trish let Tommy sprint past her, so she could steal one last look at it. The mass was slow to fully stand but it _was_ standing; she joined Tommy on the run. Both bounded down the stairs two at a time, as they reached the front window they could hear the staccato thumbing of heavy footfalls moving above them. Trish led Tommy out of the broken front window, she surmised it was faster than opening the door and the window was big enough as is. Tommy handed her the radio and then followed her out. The rain had eased up somewhat but the lightning was still cracking sporadically. They escaped deeper into the woods, away from the lake. Behind them their front door exploded to bits as the mass burst through from the other side; running at full speed after them. Trish didn't look back, she just prayed they'd be able to lose it in the dense woods somehow. Barring that, she hoped that they would find another property, perhaps the Loomis'—they were fairly close if she remembered right.

Both ran as fast and as hard as they could, but Tommy began to lag behind her; coughing as he ran out of breath. "I can't-I" he stammered out. She stopped and got down on one knee.

"C'mon get on my back, we gotta keep moving!" Tommy did as she asked and slowly climbed on her back, grabbing her tightly around the neck. Trish stood and gazed around the forestry, seemed satisfied she didn't see it and ran in a northern direction perpendicular with the lake. She hoped. Although the adrenalin was doing a lot of the heavy lifting, it could only carry her so far. She began to slow with every step she took; carrying both her brother and the radio were starting to take a toll. When she noticed the small home coming up through the darkness she breathed a sigh of relief. She slowed to a stop in front of it and lowered herself to let Tommy down. She handed him the radio and looked the building over.

It was a small rundown one store abode; vines covered the exterior and boards covered the only front window but the door was obstruction free. So it was abandoned but it still proved a measure of safety that wasn't there before. She grabbed Tommy by the hand and led him to the front door; she gave it a small shove and it flew open. Before them was a kitchen/living room, beyond that was a single doorway; no doubt a bedroom/bathroom as the place wasn't very large.

"Is…is this where it lives?" Tommy asked meekly.

"I...I don't know." Was all Trish could say. Everything in the room was covered with cobwebs or dust, nobody could live here still…right? Tommy got down on a single knee and powered on the radio. A static hiss filled the small room as Tommy fiddled with knobs and switches until there was eventually silence. He brought a speaker/microphone to his lips and spoke, "Hello? Uh-mayday! Mayday! We need help!"

More silence, but then finally: "This is Crystal Lake dispatch, what is your emergency?"

Trish closed her eyes and silently thanked god. She walked over the Tommy and grabbed the receiver. "Please help us—someone is after us! Our mother is dead and so are the vacationers next door!" While Trish yelled at the speaker Tommy walked into the other room. It was a bedroom for sure but the bed and frame were overturned, the only other piece of furniture was a night stand and that too was tossed over, its legs broken. "Oh my god, Trish!"

"Hold on Tommy!" She called from the other room. "We're the Jarvis family, okay? It's still chasing us, we're still nearby but I don't know where we are exactly!"

"Trish come look at this!"

She sighed, frustrated by the dispatcher on the other end. At the very least they had to come investigate…right? She put the receiver down and walked over to Tommy in the room. As she walked in he was standing in the center of the room staring at something; she walked over to him partially annoyed that he was so adamant she come over there. When she reached him, she gasped. On an old wooden crate was a head, below that a decomposing body with an icepick in its head. Even despite all she'd seen so far tonight, this took her aback the most. What was this place, why was this here? Before she could wonder too long, there was a large crash in the other room. She stepped back out there only to see it standing in the doorway, another door destroyed; although this one half clung to its hinge only, it was still mostly intact somehow. She backed into the room, heart pounding in her chest. She scanned the room, there were no windows. Heavy foot falls walked toward them but she refused to believe this was the end. She looked all around her for some kind of weapon and came across the ice pick again. She reached for it and pulled it out quickly. She spun around to the doorway again, sliding Tommy behind her to protect him.

The mass stood in the doorway; lightning struck once more briefly lighting up the room. Its clothes were crusty with blood that dripped off due to how soaked it still was from the rainstorm earlier. Its eyes were two black holes that seemed to look right through them. In its right hand was a machete, it hung at its side limply but coiled to strike. Trish brandished the ice pick in front of her, "You son of a bitch…" she hissed under her breath. "…I'll give you something to remember us by…"

The mass stepped forward with its free hand outstretched, Trish met it with a downward stab of the icepick. She buried it through the center of its hand and it actually grunted in pain. It dropped the machete and grabbed the now bloody hand staring down at it. Enraged, it charged at Trish and knocked her to the ground. She screamed a high pitch scream and pounded at the man, hitting him in the chest and face, but each blow glanced off it weakly and the blows to the face did nothing but break her knuckles. Dried and cracked hands slid around her throat and began to squeeze. Tommy stood frozen, unsure what to do.

"Tommy…Tommy get the hell out of-ack!" pressure on her neck forced her to quiet. All she had now were grunts and groans. Tommy looked around frantically, stopping at the severed head and back to the mass itself. Every kid these days heard about the legend of camp blood; every kid had heard the story about Mrs. Voorhees and her son…

"Jason?" He uttered toward it. It paused and slowly tilted its head in his direction forcing Tommy to step back. Slowly it stood, releasing its grip around Trish's neck. She gagged and hacked, scrambling to the back wall. It stared at Tommy but didn't move. Trish looked to her left and saw the dropped machete, she reached for it slowly and grabbed hold on the handle. She turned to face it through gritted teeth, she cocked the machete back and just as it turned to face her she swung with all her might. The edge of the machete bit into the side of his head, but the mask too the brunt of the damage, flying off its head and revealing a grotesque and twisted face. The brow lines and forehead were lumpy but it was too dark to actually make out its features. It took a step toward her, causing her to drop the machete. It clanged to the ground as once again it grabbed Trish by the throat, choking even harder now.

Tommy looked down as the machete, but he was still frozen. Trish looked at him, desperately trying to will him to move with her eyes, he had to survive, he had to. He looked back at Trish, then the machete, he reached for it. Trish needed him. He grabbed the handle and raised it high over his head, he hesitated for a moment, fear gripping him again. Until he shut his eyes, and swung down with all his might. The blade sunk into the top of its head, in a diagonal trajectory and blood began to pour out of the wound. The mass jerked upwards and screamed, blood spilling everywhere and even down onto Trish who was trying to catch her breath. The mass staggered out of the small house, leaving a thick trail of blood as it went before finally collapsing just outside the door.

Tommy ran over to Trish and hugged her tight, she returned it and then some. They both wished this night had never happened, but at least-for now-it seemed over. Suddenly the reality of what had just happened to them both truly sank in and they both began to cry. Suddenly orphaned, all they had left in this world was one another. After a long moment Trish perked her head up at the far off sound of sirens blaring in the distance. She looked down at Tommy and smiled; she grabbed his hand and they began to walk. They walked in silence for a long time, letting their unspoken thoughts swirl around in their minds only to get forever dug in.

They ended up being picked up by the police midway through the trek back to their home. Tommy stared outside the window blankly the entire ride back to town where they were met by a flood of reporters. Cable news vans filled every spare parking spot and crammed into any alley they could find. Cameramen of all kinds were being held back by uniformed officers who looked like they all hated their jobs. Tommy and Trish kept their heads down as they were ushered inside. They were questioned extensively; it was there they were clued in to the horror this town had just experienced. So many people dead in a single weekend. All that death and destruction and it led right to them, their family. The most disturbing thing, however, was what they were told after the police returned from the small house out there in the woods:

They never found its body.

 _ **14.**_

Tracy and Tommy were in the kitchen together, fixing snacks and drinks. Tracy found it funny how easy it was to sip back into old routines, even if you had not really seen each other in months. She just supposed it just how it was with family. She was busy spreading crackers and cheese and meet on a platter while her father was cracking and ice cube tray over a small bowl. He had liters of soda on stand-by on the counter, and a couple of beers nearby as well. The kitchen was partially remodeled; the walls and cabinets were all done and refinished but the floor still required a lot of work, with the old linoleum cracked and peeling in many spots.

"You've done a good job here dad." Tracy said as she folded slices of cheese in half. She was hoping to make little perfect squares and wasn't doing so hot.

"Yeah." He replied, the last ice cube clinking into the bowl. "It's starting to feel like a home again." He waited a moment before speaking again. "You know you're more than welcome to stay here, I could use the help."

She smiled. "Oh just my help huh?" She went over to the sink and began to wash her hands, the two always had a sarcastic rapport with one another. "I'll-I'll keep that in mind." She said finally. Tommy nodded and began putting the food tray and ice bowl on a bigger serving tray. "So…these people…" he began.

"Yeah?"

"You really just brought them over here, what's their deal exactly?"

She looked at her father. "Exactly what they said; I think they're genuine."

He looked down at the serving tray. "…I got to be honest, being out here and working on this house has helped me a lot."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I haven't thought about…that…in a while. I think having a purpose and a goal out here has sort of pushed it away." He shrugged. "Sorry, you spend a lot of time talking with psych doctors you start to think like one."

Tracy suddenly felt very guilty. Had she inadvertently triggered her father and started another downward spiral? It was one of her greatest fears, doing more harm than good. "Dad…I'm sorry. I can call this off, it's no big deal." She finally said. "Honestly, I'm just glad to see you." She smiled.

Tommy looked at her and smiled back. "No it's okay, maybe it'll do some good. Hug?"

"The old Jarvis sandwich?" She replied. "Bring it in." They hugged tightly before breaking; she grabbed the serving tray while Tommy grabbed the drinks and beers. They walked out from the kitchen and into the main living room. New couches were in place and the floor was stripped bare of its linoleum but the wood was still weathered and not much

work had been done to it. A wooden chair sat alone by the fireplace which had new masonry work put in. Kelsey sat on one edge of the couch, behind her was Levi manning the camera and tripod, Adam was just off to the side fiddling with his sound equipment, pointing the boom in various directions and again pushing buttons on the device.

"Here we go." Tommy said as the items were placed on the mahogany table in the center. "I've got sodas, water and here are the two beers for you guys."

"Awesome, thanks man." Adam said as he walked over to grab his beer. It was a bud light but he wasn't a snob. Beer was beer. Levi too walked over and took a look at the bud light and shrugged, he was a snob but beggars can't be choosers. Kelsey grabbed a glass and began to fill it with ice, she wasn't much of a soda drinker but figured she'd indulge this one time because why not. Besides, she loved cherry coke when she was younger, it spoke to her in ways she wasn't prepared for. The soda sizzled and popped as it filled the glass, the ice cracked with a satisfying sound that brought her back to when she was 12 years old. Tommy pulled up the old wooden chair and grabbed his own bottle of bud light, it opened with a satisfying hiss and he took a hearty swig. Gordon bounced up to him happily and laid at his feet. He reached down to offer ear scratches and the dog sighed happily, it missed him too.

"Mr Jarvis." Kelsey began after a sip of her own. "I want to thank you for meeting with us, we really appreciate it."

"Please call me Tom." He replied. "It's no problem…so you're a show that talks about true crime?"

"Yes, basically. We like to highlight cases like yours, things that have a bit of mystery to them." Tracy sat down on the other end of the couch and helped herself to a cracker, a piece of salami and a poorly shaped square of cheese.

"They've spoken to a few people already in town." She said with half a mouthful. Momentarily embarrassed she finished swallowing before she continued. "Sorry. I was there when they spoke with Dan Hollister."

Tommy nodded. "There's a name I hadn't heard in a long time, how is he?"

Kelsey looked at the rest of her crew then back to Tommy. "He seems fine; hates the Sherriff."

"Ah so the same then." He said with a smile.

Kelsey laughed. "Oh, Megan Garris told us to say hello."

Tommy's eyebrows went up with surprise. "Megan? Wow, yet another blast from the past."

"Who's that?" Tracey asked.

"An old girlfriend, met her before your mother."

"Ooh, I'll have to press for details later." And they all laughed.

Kelsey took another sip of her Cherry Coke. "So is it alright if we begin the interview?" Kelsey asked. She glanced down at her phone, still nothing from Jeremy. She told herself she'd bring it up if there was still no word when they were done. She wasn't worried yet, they were in the middle of nowhere after all.

"Yeah that's fine." He replied after another swig of beer.

Kelsey nodded and made a signal to the two behind her. "Okay, I'm with Tom Jarvis; one of the 3 survivors of the second Crystal Lake massacre. Thank you for being with us tonight, Tom."

"No problem."

"So it's been about 33 years since all that happened, can you tell how it still affects you-or doesn't-to this day?"

Tommy smiled wryly. "Well that's a whole can of words isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, I can ask something else…" She flushed red. "I had other opening questions, I swear they're better."

He laughed at that. "No I'm just messing with you." He took another small sip and adjusted his posture a bit. "Uh-well, as I'm sure my daughter could attest to, asking how it affected me, even to this day, is almost like asking 'is water wet'? It's affecting me every day, even in small ways."

"Do you mind expanding on that?"

"Not at all, I spent most of my life talking to doctors—it's sort of reflexive at this point." He cleared his throat. "For the first few years, I saw him everywhere. I'd close my eyes he was there, I turned my head; he was there. Eventually those fade with time and a looot of therapy. But unfortunately it made me a bit paranoid, you see. For a little while there I began to worry that he was going to come and find me, no matter where I went. You see I'm still living with the scars from all that every day. Even if that old junk is gone, mostly." He grinned to Tracy who just shook her head.

"I was told this was the home it happened in, your old family home, is that right?"

He swallowed and nodded. "Yup, we're in it right now."

"I just don't know if I could live in the same town, let alone the same house. Is it part of your therapy?"

"Ah." He grimaced. "Well my therapist disagreed with me doing this if that's what you're asking."

"Then why stay?"

He considered his answer for a moment. "I'll be honest, at first I wanted him to find me."

Tracy wanted to be shocked by this answer but the truth was she knew it too. In all honesty it may had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Jason Voorhees?" Kelsey asked.

He nodded in response. "I thought that if I saw him and killed him, it'd make me better. But being back in the house, seeing how deteriorated it got, I sort of got inspired to turn it into a home again. So that's what I've mostly been doing and-uh-well, I stopped thinking about it less and less. I guess, in a way, coming here turned out to be very therapeutic after all, just not in any way I would have expected."

"So you no longer believe he's out there?"

He arched his eyebrows. "I didn't say that. He's out there, I've even seen him since." Now that answer had taken Tracy by complete surprise, she choked on what remained of her cracker, cheese and salami sandwich. Everyone turned to look at her and she turned a shade of red. "Ack, sorry. Dad are you serious?"

Kelsey turned back to Tommy and nodded. "Um, yeah I think that was my next question."

He just sort of chuckled at the looks on everyone's face, as if what he had just said was just a matter of fact. And it was, to him. "I saw him twice, just stomping around out there. I actually think he actively avoids this house."

"Why do you think that is?" Kelsey asked.

"Maybe it was the place he first met resistance? Maybe because the two the put him down the first time came from here?" He shook his head and shrugged. "Who's to say?"

"And what of your sister, if you don't mind us asking?"

"She passed on about a year ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't know. It was the catalyst for me coming back here, it started me on another downward spiral; I recognize that now. You know, I think it hit harder on her than it did on me, and that's saying a lot."

"How so?"

"Well she wasn't quite 18 so we both got separated and bounced around from psych hospital to psych hospital basically. Anytime any of us seemed to make some sort of progress, we did something that put us back in the system. I eventually got clear and adopted in a local foster family—maybe I learned all the right bullshit to say?" He chuckled to himself but then quickly grew sad. "She never did, unfortunately. She actually saw our mother die, then had to put on a brave face for me immediately after it happened. I can only imagine what that did to her, only because I went through a measure of that."

Kelce nodded. Her throat felt dry so she reached for another sip of soda; this interview was harder than she imagined it would be. Her lips smacked together when she was finished, she placed the glass down on the table and continued. "Let's talk more about the aftermath."

"Ok."

"What happened after you put the assailant-"

"Jason."

"Jason-right, let me ask you this first: how do you know it was Jason Voorhees who attacked you and your family?"

"It was the house we were in."

"What?" Kelsey looked around. "What about this house?"

"No-no." He shook his head adamantly. "It didn't end in this house, it ended at his."

"The popular story is that you mortally wounded him here in your house."

"Well the popular story is bullshit. Me and my sister had wandered the woods until we came upon this house; it was Pamela Voorhees' house."

"How did you know? They say the home was raised after Camp Blood."

He nodded at that. "Yeah I heard the same thing growing up back in the 80's, but it was absolutely their home."

"What told you that? Did…Jason talk?"

"God no—I think the fact he never spoke made it worse somehow." He shook that off. "No, it wasn't like it said "Voorhees" out front or anything like that but what we saw in there…" He paused momentarily, as if he was thinking back to that time; reliving it.

"Tom? Are you okay?"

He looked up suddenly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you." He adjusted in his seat again. "There was a severed head in the back room of that house. And everyone my age had heard the tale of Mrs. Voorhees. Son drowned, went crazy and killed a bunch of kids until she was decapitated. But that was just the true story, everyone always tended to add on the legend after the fact: that her son rose from the dead to take revenge once her head was lopped off. I saw that and, I just sort of put two and two together."

He took another swig of beer, this time a longer gulp than the last. It was enough for him to kill off the bottle; eventually he continued: "When he confronted us in there, I called out to him. I said his name. I said 'Jason'."

He paused and the rest of the crew looked hung on to his every last word. Kelsey finally broke the silence by asking, "What happened then?"

"He turned to face me. Was he confused by the utterance or had he actually heard his name for the first time in a long time? You all know what I think."

"So what happened after you put the-Jason, down?" Kelsey asked.

"Well me and my sister decided we'd head back home, maybe we could get the power back on and really talk to the police." He replied. "I still remember stepping over his body as if it happened to me only an hour ago. I really thought he was dead."

"Did the police pick you up from your home then?"

He shook his head. "No, they caught up to us about half way through. Seeing those flashing sirens allowed us to finally breathe. Of course with that, everything that had just happened really sank in. It was, in all honesty, the start of the rest of our lives.

Kelsey nodded. "I can only imagine. Did you tell them about the house?"

"Yes of course. Right after they pulled up we told them where we had come from and that he was still there. They swept us into the back of their squad and took us to the station. They asked us all sorts of questions."

"Do you remember anything specific?"

He shook his head. "No, that whole rest of the night was a blur compared to what came before. Only thing I do remember was this out of body experience I was feeling as I was recounting what we had did that night, what I felt I was forced to do." He grew silent again but this time just picked up where he left off. "Eventually we heard that he was leaving them a trail of bodies to follow and were trying to track him the entire fucking weekend. I remember Trish losing her shit because that's something people in the area would have liked to know."

"Why do you think they didn't?"

"I've heard so many excuses, I don't believe any of them. The one that saves them the most face is that they didn't want to alarm and that they didn't initially believe the first two were connected."

"Well, to be fair, it sounds plausible."

"Sure, but who wants to think their police force is that incompetent? I'd almost rather the reason be more sinister in nature. Or maybe not; regardless it was a massive fuck up. Once I started insisting it was Jason, well that just called to mind memories of their last fuck up so I know they were god damn glad when I was sent to a state hospital. They couldn't have been happy when I came back." He chuckled again. "Or when I started dating the sheriff's daughter."

"Is that Megan?" Tracy asked, he answered with a nod and she smirked. That did not surprise her in the least. Kelsey looked down at her phone again; they'd been speaking for the last hour and still no word from Jeremy.

"I think we should stop here for now" She said to Levi. He looked up from the viewfinder confused, "What's up?" He asked her. She held up her phone and replied, "Jeremy still isn't back yet and he hasn't texted in a while. I'm starting to get worried."

"Maybe his phone is dead?" Adam asked.

"Sure, but he's still be out there a long time."

Tommy perked up. "Out where?" He asked, concerned.

"Their van broke down just off the main road, he stayed behind to wait for AAA." Tracy responded.

Tommy stood up suddenly. "Why didn't you say you had someone still out there? We could have gone and got him."

The four of them all looked to each other with questioning looks, why hadn't they? Kelsey spoke up first, "We just thought he'd be here by now to be honest." Tommy looked at her for a moment before he shook his head.

"Well I'll go grab the keys to my jeep and we'll go grab him okay?" Kelsey nodded and he looked over to Tracy and tipped his head in the direction of the kitchen. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Um, sure." She replied and they both disappeared around the corner and into the kitchen. He let her walk past him and he peered back into the living room to see if they were listening. Satisfied that they weren't he turned back to Tracy. Fear was spread across his face, it concerned Tracy. "What's up dad?" she whispered.

He paced slightly before he stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips "You heard everything I said in there, right?"

Her eyes darted back and forth, looking around the room before settling on his face. "Uh, yeah dad. Of course I did."

"Then I'll give you three guesses why I have this look on my face right now." The color him fully but at the same time, she didn't disbelieve him either. Suddenly she had that feeling she was sure her father felt every day, that sudden onset of paranoia; was this how it all started? She shuddered at the thought. Still, what was real was her father and he was standing right in front of her clearly scared for what may have happened to these peoples friend.

"Dad…" was all she could say. He stopped her by putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Yeah, okay-I get it. And I don't want this to ruin our little reunion here like this always does..." He swallowed heavily. "I'm really scared. I know you don't believe me, but he's out there. The fact you guys came here on your own was risky enough but you left someone out there? You needed to tell me right away."

"Dad, please. Let's just worry about that bridge until we try to cross it, is that fair?"

He thought for a moment and released her shoulders. He brushed a stray strand of hair from his face and nodded at her in agreement. "Yeah, okay. I can do that much." He walked over to the counter and grabbed the keys splayed upon them. He turned back to her and smiled. "Thank you, I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." She replied, her face beaming. They both returned to the living room, the three other faces looking up at them expectantly.

"Let's head out there and get your friend."

 _ **15.**_

The trip back seemed to take longer in the vehicle than it did on the walk there but I mostly chalked that up to how much I was worried. One look at Tom's face told me exactly what he was thinking; it was contagious and had affected me too. It was pitch black save for the headlights leading the way so he drove under 25 mph, the bumps and dips in the dirt road were inconsequential at this speed so I appreciated it. We were in a Grand Cherokee and I sat in the back between both Adam and Levi; if they were as concerned as I was they didn't show it. I felt incredibly silly, but how else should I have felt? Here we were in Crystal Lake; it was the middle of the night and our friend was out there alone. I kept reflexively checking my phone in the vain hope I'd hear back from Jeremy but with every minute passing with nothing just made me more anxious.

"You said he was on this road, yeah?" I heard Tommy say to Tracy who sat next to him in the front.

"Yeah we turned here off the main road and then the car shit the bed."

"We should be close but I'm not seeing the van?" He tried well to conceal it but there was a hint of panic in his voice. I trembled a bit back there but perked up some once the front drill of the van came into view. The metal grills glinted off the light beams; I squinted my eyes to see if I could spot Jeremy in the front seat but quickly realized what a fool's errand that was. We slowed to a stop in front of it and we all got up. I quickly ran to the passenger side and just as quickly started freaking out. Tommy was behind me and stayed silent; he began looking around, gazing off into the dense wood as the rest of them shuffled beside me.

"There's blood here…" I said out loud; I'd meant to only think that but it just came out. Adam leaned against the passenger side door with his head down, his body language speaking to him trying to come to grips with what was happening. Tommy continued gazing around; he paused, seemingly gazing into the nothingness that made up most of the area. Tracy walked over to him and asked, "Dad?"

He said nothing for another moment, still staring. Suddenly, "He's out there."

I whirled around. "Jason?"

He looked at me slowly and nodded. "Probably watching us." A beat passed and then, "We need to go." We were all piling back into the car when two headlights appeared down the road. Hey grew larger as it got closer to us, we all sat and stared at it for moment as if we were all simultaneously hypnotized by the piercing bright lights. It was the tow truck; right on time almost 3 hours later I thought to myself.

"Let me flag him down." Adam said as his door slammed, snapping us all out of it. We all protested, but he was already halfway to the truck. I went to leave myself but was stopped by a stern "Don't." from Tom in the front seat. It froze me in place, so I watched Adam approach the driver's side of the truck. They looked to be conversing; I saw Adam gesticulate toward the broken down van.

"What is that?" Levi asked, distraught. He pointed between the front seats, out past the cars, behind the truck; a huge shadow shifted in the darkness. Before I could register anything, it grabbed Adam and slammed him into the driver's side door and tossed him again to the ground. The tow truck driver shrieked, I noticed him scramble to the other door. Before I knew it the Cherokees engine roared to life and we were racing backward away from the horrifying play that was going on before our very eyes.

Finally I shouted, "What are you doing?!" But I got no answer. Tommy jerked the wheel to turn us around; we spun slightly as he rearranged the front of the car to face the way home. He gunned it back toward the home by the lake. I turned back to look at the dots fading in the distance. I wanted to scream and fight for Adam; but a part of me was relieved that it was behind us.

I hated myself for that.

Adam was crumpled on the ground; his nose was broken. Blood dripped from his face in large droplets only be absorbed by the dirt he clung to. A man can be heard screaming a few feet away. Adam could peer under the car and saw two sets of feet jostling together; more screaming followed by the sharp sound of something snapping; the tow truck driver collapsed to the ground, its head twisted all the way around. Dead eyes stared right through Adam and he attempted to stand. His legs buckled mid attempt and he collapsed to one knee. He attempted to wipe blood from his eyes but only made his vision worse.

He heard the others drive off, a part of him wanted to blame them but he really couldn't. Would he have been brave in the face of this? It was easy to think and say but when reality hits…it didn't matter now. He tried again to stand; a large hand grabbed him by the hair to assist. Adam reached out to the hand in an attempt to pry it off but its grip was like secure like a welding clamp. A fist to his face slowed that; multiple blows stopped it for good, each more forceful than the last. Adam lie limp within its grip as it dragged him toward the back of the truck. Adam wasn't a very heavy person but he was incredibly tall and the ease with which he was being manhandled by this mass only served to fuel his panic; but he couldn't fight, it was beaten out of him.

The loud grinding of machinery could be heard over his racing heart. Large chains clinked and clanged behind him; was it the tow winch? The mass lifted him off the ground, it held Adam in front of it by the armpits, not unlike one would hold a small kitten. It stared at him silently; Adams vision was so blurry and caked with blood he could barely make out its outline. He spat a glob of blood on it as one last act of punk rock defiance; it splattered off the cracked resin hiding its face uselessly.

It grunted before casually tossing him onto the winch hook. The rusted metal tip pierced his back and lodged in his ribs and spine; Adam screamed as a waterfall of blood and spit flowed out of his mouth. It eyed Adam as he screamed; then, as if answering some unknown urge, it place a hand inside his mouth and gripped. Using the other hand as leverage, it pulled on his jaw, adding more and more force until, with a loud crack of bone and the wet sound of flesh ripping, it pulled out his jaw like anyone else would pull open a dresser drawer. Adam's tongue hung there uselessly; his body shuddered one last time followed by the gurgling sound of his lungs filling with blood, and he was gone.

The mass let the piece of jaw slip and drop to the ground; it turned in the direction of the fleeing Cherokee and stomped in that direction.

We skidded to a stop just in front of the house; dirt, dust and rocked kicked up in our wake. Tommy, Tracy and Levi hastily got out of the vehicle and were halfway inside before they noticed I was still in the back, completely in shock. Tommy came over to myside and opened the door; I continued staring straight ahead.

"Ms. Sampson…" he said with an outstretched hand.

"…you left him." Was all I could say.

He looked at me for a moment, hand still outstretched. "I…I'm sorry but it was either him or us." He finally said. I turned and looked right at him; there was a clear pain in his eyes. I tried to understand; tried to think on how I'd react if I suddenly found myself living in my worst nightmare. I wasn't sure and no amount of thinking was going to make me right with what we just did.

"We need to get inside." He said to me. I shut my eyes and nodded, taking his hand. I trusted him, I had to; what choice did I actually have here? I followed Tommy back into the house; Levi put a hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him. It passed silently but we both knew what we each were going through. I wanted to hug him but I was still too much in a daze from what we had seen already. Gordon whined at us; it paced between Tommy and Tracey fitfully before it saw me. It walked up to me and sat at my feet; she was a good dog. I could finally move again; it had earned those head pats.

Tracy was staring at her father, waiting for him to say something. He turned to her and grabbed her shoulder. "Upstairs, there is a gun in my bed room. First door on the right, bedside table, top drawer." He told her. "Say it back to me."

She nodded, "First door on the right, bedside table, top drawer."

"Good, go. Hey, big guy." Levi looked up, he was visibly shaking. "Help me with this bookshelf." Tommy stationed himself by the large wood bookcase over near the front door. I walked over to lend my own meager hand, he nodded at me appreciatively; Levi manned the other side so that he could pull the bookshelf while Tommy and I pushed. "Ok, go." He said and I pushed as hard as I could. The thing shook as it scraped across the old wooden floor; the sound was unbearable. Books and other knick knacks jumped to their doom, colliding on the floor with a deafening thud each time. Almost done and I hear Tommy utter, "Ugh, makes me wish I had installed the shudders after all." I cocked an eyebrow and wondered if he was being sarcastic when we were done.

Tommy touched my shoulder and asked, "Do you mind going around and shutting off the lights?"

I said, "Yeah, I can handle that." I figured he wanted to make it seem like no one was home which seemed smart to me. Tracy had returned downstairs and handed her father a pistol; firearms were not an area I was well versed in so I had no idea what kind or type it was. I hit the last switch and we were all plunged into darkness, save for the moonlight that floated in from outside. Tommy was checking to see if the windows were locked; I wondered what he was going through. Was this déjà vu for him? Was he freaking out on the inside at all? No way to tell just looking at him, but I figured he had to be. The chorus of crickets outside were the only sound I could hear above my own heartbeat. Tommy broke the silence when he said, "Not the way I wanted to test my theory about this house."

Humor as a defense mechanism; I could relate.

Gordon growled behind us; reflexively we all took a step back. I heard a click from the hammer being pulled back by Tommy's gun. The front window shatters, the force of which took me back a step. I shielded my eyes from the flying glass and when I felt safe enough to look I saw the body. Jeremy. He lay there amid broken frames and shattered glass, I could barely recognize him under the moonlight; his body was crudely mangled and contorted in unnatural ways. But we couldn't even catch a breath as the front door too exploded; both door a shelf collapsed under the weight of whatever was rushing in. It stared at us in silence when Tommy fired the first shot. The room lit up, momentarily blinding us; but I somehow got a good look at it.

It was the police sketch come to life. That same hockey mask clung tight to its skull but it was heavily weathered, scratched and cracked at various points. A scabbed over wound was noticeable from where the machete bit into the side of its skull; in fact that entire side of its face was gnarled over and graying. But what stood out to me was something I never imagined I'd see: its eyes. Wide beady little things that I felt looked right through me. Even as I shut my eyes to shield from the muzzle blast, I would still see them. The bullet glanced off the top of the mask with a spark, the mass stepped forward and shoved Tommy into the nearby support beam which buckled from the force.

"DAD!" Tracey shouted and ran to him. The mass lifted an axe toward them. Behind me Gordon growled before charging at the mass murderer; it flew through the air with a jump only to be swatted down by it. It was quicker than it looked. The dog whined and crumpled to the floor; the mass turned to it and began to step down on the dog with its large heavy foot. I couldn't stop staring, was this really Jason Voorhees? Levi charged at it, attempting to tackle it to the ground but it looked more like he had just ran into a brick wall because it barely moved; except to put its hands on Levi. Forcefully it spun Levi around and place both massive hands around his head, cupping him at each ear. Levi punched at the mass, each fist bouncing off the dirty work shirt like nickels tossed on a pillow. Slowly, the mass began to press its thumbs into Levi's eye sockets. With each increase of pressure Levi's screams grew more and more shrill; until, with a final loud squish, it was silent.

The killer dropped Levi casually like an old t-shirt, then it looked at me. Why was it just standing there? Was it trying to decide where to go? Tracy kneeled beside her father, almost shielding him from its gaze. Gordon whined softly, hardly moving save for the intermittent rising in the trunk area. I looked around me for some sort of lifeline; I wanted to jump out the window. Suddenly it charged; I was frozen; I-

 _ **16.**_

Kelsey's head tumbled through the air like a spinning tumbleweed. The decapitation was quick, clean, and sudden; arterial spray filled the air in a fine mist that splattered across the entire room. It traveled down the axe handle, dropping splotches along the way on the floor like cannonballs. Her body soon followed, crashing through the coffee table with a spectacular thud. Tracy stared at the scene mouth agape, just like that it was just her and her father. Yesterday she was worried about pay and being up to her elbows in grease; today that thing her father always talked about stood in this house before her very eyes. Earlier today she had a dog; now it barely moved. She looked down at her father who was still unconscious, he stirred but barely. Tracy felt she needed to act quickly; the mass stood in the center of the living room seemingly relishing, or admiring, its recent handiwork. Its shoulders pumped up and down like a piston, its heavy breathing echoed from behind the mask through the entire house. She looked at her father again; it was now or never.

She got up quickly and ran out of the house, making sure she knocked over a table as she did so. The mass noticed and began to give chase. Tracey pumped her legs across the clearing, coming up on the decrepit old house that had caught her eye earlier; she'd meant to ask her father but other things became more pressing rather quickly. The mass was on her heels but she used to run track back in high school and was still in pretty good shape all things considered so she had put a small bit of distance between them. The old vacation home was in a bit of disrepair; holes and poorly boarded up windows lined the outside while the front entrance was bereft of a door of any kind. Over the decades nature had encroached in earnest.

Loose patches of grass lined the floorboards while various sticks, leaves and other detritus cluttered loosely in every direction. Tracy ran up the stairs, taking careful note of the steps themselves that were corroded and falling apart; some were down right missing too. Tracy took a glance back to catch a glimpse of the mass appearing in the doorway; it pursued her up the stairs aggressively, nearly taking the steps two at a time. Quickly it was on her and it reached out, managing to grab her by the ankle. The sudden drag on her momentum sent her crashing face first against the stairs busting her bottom lip. She kicked at it but it seemed unfazed by any blows to the mask. It attempted to pull her closer when one of its feet suddenly shot through the main step it used as leverage The wood groaned a final death gasp as the rest of the stairs gave way and sent them both tumbling into the dark basement below.

The mass released her ankle to try to catch itself but completely miss timed it; it landed on the cold floor hard, causing the axe in its other hand to clank halfway across from it; it remained motionless. Tracy dangled precariously on one of the remaining stairs still intact, grunting and kicking at the empty air hoping to will herself back up and out of harm's way. Using her remaining upper body strength she inched herself closer and closer out of the make-shift hole; finally she had enough leverage to swing a foot over and back topside. After a few more grunts and one last guttural scream as she pulled herself up and she was relatively safe lying on her back. She peer back over the lip of the man-made canyon; it was still there, lying face up and unmoving. She strained to see if it was still breathing and it was. Fitfully she sat up and dangled her legs over the edge while she considered how to get down from here, she needed to get back to her father; call the police.

Aside from the top few treads, all that had remained of the stairs were the bannister and stringers. She grabbed the bannister to steady herself and stepped carefully on to the stringer grooves; slow and steady she crisscrossed her feet as she made her way down along the edge. She grabbed one last look down in the basement before hopping down to the ground floor. It wasn't there. The basement door began to shake on its hinges; a heavy kick sends it flying off to collide with the wall ahead. The figure fills the hallway with its massive frame, Tracey backpedals, a scream caught in her throat. The axe hung rigid at its side; it twitched; hesitated; then it moved. That scream found its way free as she stumbled backward and fell. The collision sends shockwaves up and down her spine; it was almost on her.

Shots rang out above her. Two, three, maybe four. The bullets split the dusty air and take three bites of the mass; it staggered; moved forward half a step; then collapsed. Tracy stared at the fallen beast eyes wide and crazed. A hand touched her on the shoulder; it was her father. He was speaking, but no sound was forthcoming. Her ears rang; she just stared at him dumbfounded and terrified,

"-racy? Hey-come on we need to go!" He was holding out his hand to her. She took it and nodded, the ringing finally subsiding. She poked in one ear with a pinky finger, but she had never felt more thankful to see her father than in this one moment. She hugged him suddenly and tightly, she squeezed so tight it almost made her forget about the murderer laying not but a few feet away, but only almost.

"Come on, we should lead him away from here."

She blinked, confused. Was she still partially deaf? She wasn't clear if she had heard him correctly. "What?" She motioned to it. "He's dead!" the declaration didn't stop her from whispering it all the same. Tommy looked over at the body then back at her; he shook his head. He turned her around to face it; he pointed. She wasn't sure what he wanted her to look at exactly, she strained her eyes to see; there: a finger, twitching. She was poised to summarize it as just a death spasm, when it stirred. Father and daughter backed out of the decrepit old vacation home before Tommy grabbed Tracy's hand and led her deeper into the wood.

"Dad, where are we going?" She managed to squeeze in between steps but he didn't answer. They ran for moments more before she had to force him to stop, her lungs burned. She felt like she hadn't taken a breath in the last twenty minutes. Tommy paced around her, scanning the area. It was strange, to Tracy he looked like he was in his element. Like he'd spent the last 30 years of his life planning for this moment. Why here and why now, she wondered. Was she the catalyst? Was it the documentary crew? She could feel herself begin to break down at the thought of the 4 of them. She hardly knew them, but did that matter? They were nice, and respectful, she enjoyed being a party to their banter; like a secret cool club she had been let in on.

And now they were dead.

"Tracy looked at her father, she tried to keep up with his pacing. "Dad…Dad, stop!" He paused and looked at her; his eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. He was terrified. She sighed and put a hand up apologetically. "Dad, where are we going?" She asked him. "Shouldn't we call the police?"

"And what are they going to do?" He scoffed. "You saw this damn thing didn't exactly work!" He threw the gun on the ground in disgust.

Exasperated Tracy threw up her hands questioningly, "Then what are we doing dad, come on-stay with me here!"

He ran a shaking hand through his dirty hair; he seemed to have cracked, maybe reached past his boiling point. "I think this can only end at one place." Was all he finally said to her.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"Where it should have ended 30 years ago." He said. "His home."

Tracy scrunched her face at the suggestion her father just made. Maybe he wasn't in his element like she had originally thought; maybe this is just him past the breaking point; maybe he's finally lost it. Something told her that it would still be her fault anyway. Branches in the distance could be heard snapping, Tommy froze immediately. "It's him." He said barely above a whisper. He grabbed Tracy's arm and forced her to run, she pulled her arm away and ran just fine on her own. Her dad's current state of mind seemed to lack immediate importance. Tommy knew exactly where he was going, how could he not, how could he not; he'd have mentally taken this trek thousands of times. For the first few year he was back in this place anytime he closed his eyes. Always back here, always running, always at the home.

Tommy reached it first with Tracy slowing to a jog when she had caught up to him. If the house was falling apart back in 1985 then in the 30 years since its moved up to collapsing. The roof was now partially missing, most of it cratered inward. It had no door that still lay kicked off and in pieces in the entranceway. Tommy glanced behind him fitfully before entering, Tracy followed but couldn't get out of her mind the fact they didn't belong there. Inside the place was rotting away, the only thing giving away that it used to be a kitchen was the corpse of a refrigerator off in the far corner. Tommy walked further in, to the back room. Something on the ground had caught his eye, he bent down to pick it up and marveled at it. "I can't believe it." He uttered.

"Dad, why are we here?" Tracy pleaded.

He ignored her. "Why would this be here?" He asked to mostly himself. In his hand was a machete, it was mostly rusted over but still looked very sharp. "Unless they never actually came here at all…" again said to no one in particular. Tracy looked over his shoulder to see what he was holding. Her sudden appearance startled him slightly; he turned to face her. Tracy tried to search his eyes, for a sign that he was alright. They were wide and a touch dilated; he didn't find what she was looking for.

Tommy attempted to hand her the machete, and at first she made no move to take it. He grabbed her hand and placed the handle within before he told her, "This is the weapon I got him with."

Now her eyes grew wide and she looked up at him but he was already further in the room. She jogged up to him and found him again staring at something; this time she didn't hesitate, this time she went to look for herself. She almost screamed. It was a head. A skull to be specific, as any flesh it might have once had was long gone. She backed away from it, enough was enough. "Dad let's just fucking go, please?" She tugged on his arm but he ignored her. He opened her mouth to plead once more when a shuffling sound emerged from the front room. Tommy glanced back as if he had snapped out of a trance. He turned back to the skull and grabbed it before he faced the entry way. Tommy reached out to Tracy and glided her behind him. "Shhh. It's okay baby, just get ready." Was all he told her.

"Ready? What?!" She wanted to shake him, shake him and scream; but she looked up and she saw it. Unbelievably, there it was, its huge frame filling the entire door way. It looked down at Tommy as it stepping in with them, specifically what he held in his hand.

"Jason." Tommy uttered. Immediately its gaze snapped to Tommy; it seemed hesitant. "You remember me don't you? You remember what I did to you?" Silence. The air was still; Tracy gripped the machete tighter as she huddled behind her father. Tommy seemed to be enjoying this, for once he felt like he had the power. He glanced down at the mask, and then back at Jason. "I'll give you something else to remember us by." He said, before rearing back and slamming the skull down into the floor as hard as he could. The skull shattered into a thousand of tiny little fragments that scattered everywhere. Bits slid to Jason's feet, he gazed down at them for a moment before his gazed snapped up. Instantly it lunged forward and grabbed Tommy by the neck and head, lifting him high into the air before it slammed him back down to the ground. Massive hands engulfed Tommy's head and began to squeeze with all its might while applying force downward. Tracy shouted and screamed, she felt frozen in place once it had lunged, and it was so fast it could hardly register.

The sound of bone and floorboard buckling filled her brain snapped her out of it; he father was dying. Tracy looked down at her hand, the one that tightly gripped the rusty machete covered in dried blood. She raised it above her head and swung down with closed eyes. The machete cut through the air before finding a home deep inside its shoulder. Dark viscous blood pooled up and splashed her in the face as the blade traveled three-quarters deep and closer to the chest. Jason grunted in pain but howled when Tracy pulled out the machete with a guttural scream. The black fluid then sprayed everywhere, soaking the entire room in it. Jason turned to face Tracy, it reached for her and took a step forward before finally collapsing with a wet sticky splash.

The room grew quiet and Tracy stood there shivering. Shock was coming over her; she shivered so hard the machete dropped blade first and stuck to the floor. She looked around frantically at the sound, finally coming across her father's prone body just a few feet away. She sobbed and knelt down beside him; his entire head had been crushed. Had he sacrificed himself for her? Be a distraction by way of offering his life?

"Oh god, dad…" she said in between breathless heaving. "…dad…" She turned away, she couldn't look any more. It was all too much. Finally she broke out into a full cry; sitting there for minutes just letting every last bit of pain she felt out. She looked up to eye the thing that killed her father; he stared at it much like her father did back at the house,

A finger twitch.

Tracy lept up screaming. Suddenly the machete was in her hand. Suddenly she was bringing it down on the corpse; over and over and over again. "DIE! DIE! DIE!" She heard herself shouting just before her vision went white.

 _ **Epilogue**_

 _Transcript of a dispatch call between Officer Thom Feldman and Central Dispatch._

 _Officer Feldman: Dispatch this is car 8, over._

 _Central Dispatch: Go ahead 8._

 _OF: I've got eyes on a woman wandering the trail back here. Possibly drunk, maybe high, I think she's covered in blood. [unintelligible] Send an ambulance to mile marker 19, I'm going to approach._

 _CD: Roger, 8. Keep us posted._

 _End Transcript._

 _Transcript of a later call between Officer Feldman and Central Dispatch._

 _OF: This is car 8, over._

 _CD: Go ahead 8._

 _OF: [Unintelligible] Yeah I found the house, exactly where she said it was. There's only one body here._

 _CD: Say again 8?_

 _OF: [Unintelligible]_

 _CD: Say again 8?_

 _CD: 8 are you there?_

 _End Transcript._


End file.
